


Looks Innocent Enough

by Cassy27



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Awesome Pepper, Bad relationship with father, Best friend Pepper, Drinking Problem, Howard is a horrible father, Hurt Tony, M/M, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, What on earth is Steve doing with Howard, Who wouldn't fall for Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony meets his father’s new boyfriend. It’s the start of a whole new mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I bring a new story! Thank you so much, GreenLoki, for supporting me and reading every chapter, searching and destroying all my mistakes. :D The title of the story comes from the song 'Casual Affair' by Panic! at the Disco. I hope you will give this story a chance :)

It had taken all of his willpower to stay awake, and really, he didn’t know why he suffered through so many of these meetings. It wasn’t like he said much, just here and there a word when his father addressed him or when someone from the board wanted to know what was going on in the R&D division for which Tony was responsible for. Or when he was being lectured by his father about why exactly he should be paying attention; he’d soon become CEO of the company and blah, blah, blah. He could lead Stark Industries should Howard step aside tomorrow. How hard could it possibly be? Plus, he had Pepper. Easy.

So when the meeting ended and Howard asked him to stay for a minute, Tony already groaned inwardly – or by the looks of those around him, not so inwardly – and wondered what lecture his father would shoot at him this time. He collected his stuff, a great collection of doodles, and shoved them all into the binder he’d brought with him. One day he’d use it for something interesting.

The meeting room ran empty, the grand oval table cleared of papers and pens.

Reluctantly, Tony walked over to where Howard was putting the last of his files into his black leather briefcase. Frankly, Tony thought that this was unwarranted. Really, he’d behaved today. He hadn’t even said a word, or maybe that was what Howard would pick on this time. There was and would always be a reason for him to be displeased.

“What are your plans tonight?” Howard asked.

Tony stopped dead in his tracks, a frown creasing his brow. That was not what he’d expected. “Uhm,” He started, lost for words, which didn’t happen often – never really, “Nothing special, I think.” He’d have to check with Pepper to be sure. She knew his schedule better than anyone.

“Why don’t you come over to the mansion then?” Howard asked.

If Tony wasn’t mistaken, and he was never mistaken, his father sounded careful and almost … insecure. It was so unlike him that it made Tony be on guard. “But today’s not Sunday,” He said, still frowning and anticipating some sort of trap, “We always have dinner on Sunday. Can’t it wait?” Because if he could avoid having dinner with his father twice in a week, then he was going to try his damn hardest to achieve that. Once a week was enough. Hell, once a week was already too much.

“I know,” Howard said, sounding impatient, “But there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Oh – _oh._ Tony barely refrained himself from snorting. His father, the wealthiest and most influential man on this side of the US of A was nervous to have his son over so he could meet his latest conquest. It was hilarious and a story Tony _had_ to remember to tell an interviewer some day. God, they would have a good laugh then!

“You want me to meet my new evil stepmother?” He asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. He leaned back against the edge of the oval table and crossed his arms before his chest, the binder now forgotten as it lay on the other side of the table. “What’s she called, the Lady Tremaine?”

Howard definitely wasn’t pleased. His dark eyes – exactly the same as Tony’s – stared at him, exasperation visible in them, and before Tony could see it coming, he felt Howard’s hand connect to the back of his head, hard enough to make his head snap forward, but not hard enough to actually hurt.

“Can you never be serious about anything?” Howard snapped angrily.

Tony, rubbing the back of his head dramatically, huffed. “I’m serious about anything that matters,” He said, pushing himself away from the table. He could feel a shift in the air between them. The situation was getting dangerous, explosive, and it was best to get out before he got hit in the face. “Alright, alright,” He quickly added, giving in since this was apparently something that mattered to Howard, “I’ll be there at seven, okay?”

Howard’s gaze didn’t leave him, nor did the coldness in his eyes dissipate. “Seven works,” He said coldly, and it was clear that he regretted inviting Tony over now. Good, because Tony wasn’t planning on deviating from their once-a-week-dinner again. “I’ll see you tonight,” And with that, Howard walked out of the meeting room.

Tony sighed and tried to remember a time where talking to his father wasn’t this hard. On the other hand, had it ever been easy? He doubted it. But it was just dinner, meeting whoever was stupid enough to fall in love with Howard Stark, and then he could go home. Easy enough.

-x-x-x-

Tony was proud of himself as he sauntered to the entrance of the mansion, dressed in one of his better suits, a bottle of wine in his hand. Honestly, if this wasn’t trying, then he didn’t know what was. Howard better be pleased. Stepping up to the front door, he didn’t bother knocking. He considered himself the only person who didn’t have to bother with knocking.

“I’m here,” He shouted as he shrugged off his woolen coat. It surprised him Jarvis wasn’t instantly coming out to greet him, but given the delicious smell that hung in the air, he figured the old man was too busy laying the last hand to a delicious meal. In fact, Jarvis’ culinary talents were one of the prime reasons he still bothered to come over every Sunday evening – that and the fact that he promised his mother a few weeks before she passed because of cancer.

It was Howard who came to greet him, already an annoyed look on his face.

Tony simply threw him a smile. “I brought wine,” He said, lifting the bottle in his hand. He was really making an effort here.

“And you’re only twenty minutes late,” Howard said, glancing down at his wristwatch, “It has to be a record.”

“Beats all the times I didn’t show up at all, huh?” Tony said, his smile transforming into a grin. He stepped deeper into the hallway, his father walking along with him and accepting the bottle of wine he’d brought for him. “Smells good,” He said, taking another sniff of the air. He definitely smelled tomatoes. “What’s Jarvis cooking up for us?”

“Jarvis has the night off,” Howard replied.

Huh. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d come here and Jarvis wasn’t here. “Well then,” He said, making his way toward the kitchen, “This must be my first stepmother who can actually cook. Your choices are improving, Howard, there’s hope for you yet.”

He wanted to knock a friendly and playful hand to his father’s shoulder, only to have Howard step in front of him, nothing but seriousness in his features. Honestly, the guy had to be allergic to a joke. He’d think the man in front of him couldn’t possibly be his father since they were nothing alike, but the looks were, unfortunately, copied and pasted. It sent shivers down his spine.

“Tony, can you drop the sarcasm?” Howard asked, his voice stern.

“It comes with the package I’m afraid,” Tony answered, shrugging a shoulder in a what-can-you-do-about-it-manner.

“Fine,” Howard said, breathing out the word heavily, “But please behave tonight. I want him to feel welcome.”

Wait, what? Tony stared at his father incredulously, his mouth gaping a little. And he wasn’t usually the gaping sort of man. “Him?” He echoed, the word alien in his mouth, because this was Howard Stark, the man infamous for his hundreds of _female_ conquests. “Jesus, I knew you liked men for the occasional one-night-stand, but I thought you went for women in the long run.”

Howard rolled his eyes, which made Tony feel completely out of his league here. He hadn’t expected this so he definitely wasn’t prepared for this. “Let’s not pretend we know each other that well,” Howard said.

Tony nodded, eyes fluttering for a moment. “Touché,” He said, and then he was walking again, Howard trailing after him. It was still difficult to accept that his evil stepmother was going to be an evil stepfather instead, but Tony didn’t think it mattered in the end.

He pushed open the door to the kitchen, his eyes instantly landing on the one person present inside the room; a young man. He was tall and had short, blond hair. He had broad shoulders, muscled arms of which Tony doubted he could wrap a hand around, and baby blue eyes. Tony stood frozen as he took in the young man who straightened his back and quickly wiped his hands on a towel.

“Please tell me that’s his son,” Tony said, throwing his father a quick glance. His attention shifted back to the young man as he walked around the kitchen island, smiling kindly. He was handsome. Tony couldn’t describe him otherwise, what with the soft lines around his lips and the sharp cheekbones. What was he, a supermodel? He could understand what Howard saw in him.

“Hello, Tony,” The man said, holding out a hand for Tony to shake.

It was him, there wasn’t any other explanation. This was the man Howard wanted him to meet, and it made something heavy fall on Tony’s stomach, making him feel nauseous. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” He said, turning away from the man and turning to his father, knowing it was an asshole-move of him, ignoring the hand that was offered to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Tony, this is Steve,” Howard said, his gaze shifting between his son and his – Tony couldn’t put it any differently – boyfriend. Life-partner? Companion? Those options weren’t any better, and Tony felt his head spin.

Howard shot him a steely look, and Tony was about to blurt out something he knew he’d regret afterwards, but Steve, really young-looking Steve, beat him to it, breaking the silence.

“Your father told me you love spaghetti,” He said. Tony’s eyes shot back to him, watching him run an awkward hand through his blond hair. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another which, truthfully, was kind of adorable. And wrong, so very wrong. Tony would have found this whole situation hilarious if it were happening to someone else. “I hope you’ll like mine,” He added.

Completely ignoring him, Tony turned to his father. “Can we talk, privately?” He asked.

Howard closed his eyes and sighed. “Steve,” He said after a short silence, walking over to him and placing a hand to his side. Tony couldn’t help but look away, his mind swarming with seething thoughts, because fuck, he couldn’t believe that Howard would fall in love with a man like _Steve_ , that he’d actually fall for his charms – he had to have some amazing charms – and allow himself to be wrapped around the guy’s little finger. “Why don’t you head to the dining room?” He asked. “Tony and I will meet you there.”

Tony kept his eyes down as Steve walked past him, and he listened to footsteps fading away. As soon as he knew the guy couldn’t hear them anymore, his head snapped up. Howard was leaning back against the kitchen island, arms crossed, lips pressed together into two thin lines, but Tony was sure Howard’s hostility was nothing compared to his own disbelief and anger.

“What the hell, Howard?” He asked, throwing his arms in the air theatrically.

Much to Tony’s surprise, Howard didn’t start screaming. “And here I thought,” He said instead, his voice callous and his words obviously well-weighed, “You were going to make him feel welcome.”

“I never actually made that promise,” He pointed out, pinching the bridge of his noise for a second. The situation needed to be handled carefully, though he doubted his father would listen to anything he had to say. Howard never did, after all. “So what’s up with Blondie? He’s legal, right?”

“Oh, don’t exaggerate,” Howard bit out, “He’s thirty-one.”

“And you’re old enough to be his dad,” Tony said, shaking his head as he was still trying to come to terms with … all of this. Anyone in their right mind would understand what Steve’s goal here was, but apparently, Howard was as blind as a bat.

“Why are you making such a drama?” Howard asked, cocking his head sideways. “It’s not like you’ve ever cared about who shares my bed. God, I was a fool to think that I should introduce him to you.”

Tony didn’t hear much more after _‘who shares my bed’_ , the mental image popping up making him groan and actually taste vomit in his mouth. “I don’t know what you expected of me,” He said, rubbing a hand over his face, needing a drink now, something to help him get through this evening. Or maybe Howard would ask him to leave now. That would be great, because this wasn’t what he thought he’d have to deal with today when he got up in the morning. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Howard was going through a midlife-crisis, only he knew he’d already gone through it when he turned fifty. Could people get a second midlife-crisis when they were seventy-one?

“Can we just get through tonight?” Howard asked, shattering all of Tony’s hopes to get out of here. “We’ve kept Steve waiting long enough.”

Tony didn’t say anything anymore after that. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t lead to a full out fight? Exactly, nothing, so he nodded and followed Howard out of the kitchen, toward the dining room. They didn’t enter instantly, however, but Tony had expected nothing else at this point. Still, the warning hand to his chest, forcing him to come to a halt, was a bit much.

“Behave,” Howard said, no, _ordered_.

Tony had long stopped listening to his father, however. He wondered if he ever did listen to him. He’d listened to his mother and he listened to Jarvis, but Howard? God, it didn’t matter. “I’ll do my best,” He said, offering a forced smile, “But no promises.” He pushed Howard’s hand away and walked around him, heading into the dining room.

Steve instantly rose from where he was seated, his bright blue gaze instantly shifting back and forth between father and son. Tony rolled his eyes, and he wondered how desperate the guy had to be to put up with Howard, to sleep with him – God, no, that wasn’t a mental image he wanted to have right before dinner.

“I’ll go get the spaghetti,” Steve said and then he disappeared from the dining room.

Tony headed for the mini-bar by the window first, pouring himself a double scotch, before taking a seat at the gigantic oak dining table. He leaned back into the chair, his gaze on Howard as he followed his example. There was nothing but silence between them, but Tony had suffered through enough of those already to no longer have the desperate need to break them.

Steve returned a moment later with a large bowl in his oven-mitten covered hands. He set it down in the middle of the table and took a seat opposite Tony, Howard sitting at the head of the table as usual. The silence dragged on, even when they were all eating, and Tony couldn’t help but think that if this silence continued, they might all survive just yet.

That was until he caught sight of his father who was silently telling him to start a conversation. Tony had seriously hoped to get through the night without having to say another word, but those plans were thrown out of the window now.

Clearing his throat, he demanded Steve’s attention, meeting his blue eyes with a cocky grin. “So, Steve,” He started. It was admirable that Steve held his gaze steadily. “What do you do for a living?” That was a safe question, wasn’t it? He wanted to pat himself on the back.

“Uhm, I’m in between jobs right now,” Steve said.

Tony couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. “Figures,” He said softly, staring down at his half eaten spaghetti, which was actually pretty good. The guy could cook.

“What did you say?” Howard asked sharply.

“Oh, nothing,” Tony said, looking back up, his cocky grin still very much in place, “This is really good spaghetti,” He told Steve, pointing down to the pasta.

Steve bit down on his lower lip for a second, which made Tony stare at him, his breath trapped inside his chest for a minute, only to remember that Steve was his father’s boyfriend. He suddenly understood even more what Howard liked so much about him. He was handsome, ruggedly so, with his pretty blue eyes and full red lips. Tony banned all those thoughts from his head. That was his stepfather after all. Fuck, this was messed up.

“Thanks,” Steve said after a short silence, and Tony realized that the guy had been trying to determine whether or not he’d been sincere about his compliment, “I guess.”

“So where did you guys meet?” Tony asked then, wanting to keep the conversation going. Why, he didn’t know. He assumed that that was what Howard wanted, and anyway, it was a good way to get some background information on the guy.

It was Howard who answered his question. “Shield.”

That was a surprise. Tony turned back to Steve, finding that the man was still looking at him, and for the first time, Tony thought he understood what it meant to be scrutinized by someone. He was usually the one doing the scrutinizing, but he forgot one big detail about this whole situation. Steve was meeting him for the first time, too. And damn, the guy probably thought he was the biggest asshole in the universe. Good for him.

“You worked for Shield?” He asked, eyebrows rising and his eyes widening. “The military counter-terrorism and intelligence agency, that Shield?”

Steve smiled faintly. “Why do you find that hard to believe?”

“You don’t look like a Shield kind of guy,” Tony said, shrugging.

“I was part of the special ops team,” Steve explained. He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. “I also tested weapons Stark Industries designed and built. That’s how your father and I met.”

“And you two just hit it off,” Tony said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Honestly, he couldn’t wrap his head around this. What could a guy like Steve possibly see in a guy like Howard? There was more to the story, but apparently, only Tony was aware of it. He could feel Howard’s warning gaze on him, but he didn’t grant his father any attention. He’d told him sarcasm came with the package so he shouldn’t be surprised. “What a wonderful love story.”

“I know there’s an age difference, but–”

“I hadn’t noticed yet,” Tony interrupted Blondie.

“Tony,” Howard said threateningly.

“I’m sincere about your father,” Steve simply finished.

“Oh, so you’re not a gold digger?” There he’d said, having thrown all decencies out of the window. Decency never got him anywhere anyway. “What a relief.”

“Tony, that’s enough!” Howard shouted.

Tony held up his hands, as if to show that he wasn’t actually armed. Like that would make Howard calm down. The vein throbbing visibly on the side of his neck was enough of an indication that he was about to burst with anger, but that had never stopped Tony before. “I’m just saying what everyone else will be thinking when they find out about you two,” He said.

Steve exhaled sharply and shook his head, the first sign of exasperation on his part. Tony was impressed. “Your father is a kind and generous man,” He said, and Tony had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, _again_ , “He’s considerate and passionate, and–”

“Excuse me,” Tony interrupted, “Are we talking about the same man here?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Howard growled.

“And here I thought Steve was the one leading you on,” Tony said, as if Howard hadn’t spoken at all. Maybe he was pushing the boundaries here, but he wouldn’t be Tony Stark if he knew when enough was enough. “But the roles are reversed, aren’t they? Really, Howard, you should tell Steve the truth. He looks like a decent guy, so don’t lead him on.”

“And what truth would that be?” Howard asked, seething. His face was pale with rage and his hands were tight fists beside his empty plate. Tony blamed Jarvis. Howard never lost his cool like this whenever Jarvis was around.

“That you’re actually one of the most greedy, cold-hearted, selfish, and arrogant bastards in the State, no, in America. No, in the world,” Tony said with a pleased grin plastered to his face.

He’d expected a lot in that moment – Howard exploding with anger mostly, cursing and destroying anything within his reach – but the only thing that happened, was Howard tossing his head back and laughing. Actually _laughing_. Tony narrowed his eyes and held his breath, utterly lost about what was happening right now.

“I tried so hard with you,” Howard said after a few long moments, “And I really thought tonight could be … fun, but I’m an idiot. Honestly, I don’t know what else I should have expected and I don’t know what else I can do. You continue to behave like a rebellious teenager. You do know you’re forty three, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Tony drawled, “This is all my fault. As always.”

“I always gave you what you wanted,” Howard continued, his voice dripping with venom, “Perhaps that’s the problem. You’ve always been so spoiled.”

“I never got what I wanted!” Tony argued heatedly. He was faintly aware that Steve was sitting opposite him, his blue eyes wide and unsure because of what was transpiring around him, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care. This wasn’t about Steve anymore. “When I turned eight, I asked for a Han Solo action figure, but instead you gave me a book on how to build engines.”

“You had the brains,” Howard said through gritted teeth, “I didn’t want them to go to waste.”

“So I should be thanking you?” Tony asked, horror in his voice. “If it wasn’t for mom, I wouldn’t have had a childhood at all!”

“Okay!” Steve shouted suddenly. Both Tony and Howard’s gaze snapped toward the young man. Steve shrunk back a little and swallowed hard. A part of Tony felt sorry him, that he had to witness this, but on the other hand, maybe this was exactly what he needed to see. “Maybe we all need a time-out,” He offered.

Tony took in a deep breath, realizing that his anger probably matched Howard’s, and only now did he see that his own hands had become fists, too, nails digging painfully into the palm of his hands. “This was a bad idea,” He said before downing the last of his wine. He’d kill for something stronger, but he wasn’t going to get it here. Like hell was he going to stay in this room for a second longer.

“I agree,” Howard said.

“Steve, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Tony said as he stood. There wasn’t any sarcasm in his voice this time, but he wasn’t exactly sincere either. The truth was that he didn’t know how he felt about meeting Steve. “Welcome to this fucked-up family,” He said, and with that, he left the dining room.

Ugly words left his mouth as he made his way to the foyer and he wondered what his mother would think were she to see them today. She’d probably throw a fit and force them to talk things out. It’s a good thing she wasn’t around anymore then, because there was just no way would Tony talk things out with Howard, the asshole.

He was still cursing under his breath as he quickly shrugged on his thick coat and heard a soft voice call his name.

“Tony?”

He spun around to find Steve standing there, a Tupperware box in his hands. Tony stared at him for a moment, nothing but silence in the foyer, and Tony realized that Steve was waiting on him to say something, only he was too busy taking in Steve’s appearance for the second time that evening. He was wearing casual black jeans along with a blue button-up shirt that shouldn’t be hugging his torso as much as it did. His blue eyes had sadness to them which they didn’t have earlier, and his cheeks are slightly flushed, probably because of all the accusations having been thrown around.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” He said, because he’d been enough of an asshole for one evening, “I know I’m a dick, but really, you wouldn’t be the first one who’s after our money or who wants a shot in the spotlights.”

Steve arched one eyebrow. “Is that an apology?”

Tony licked his lips, carefully considering Steve’s words, but ultimately, he didn’t even know anymore. “Yes?” He said, or asked. He wasn’t even sure what an apology consisted of. Regret? Sorrow? He’d never been someone who regretted anything.

“It’s a sucky one,” Steve said.

“Well, I’m sure this won’t come as a surprise,” Tony said, only vaguely wondering what he was doing exactly, talking to Steve, “But I’m not the kind of guy who apologizes a lot.”

Steve chuckled, the sound warm. “I’m aware,” He said, his blue eyes lightening up, the sadness slowly disappearing, and Tony couldn’t help but think he looked better like that. He was young, sure, but he had an innocence around him that he quite liked. Maybe, just maybe, Steve really was sincere about Howard. Tony didn’t know how he felt about that. “I’ve got some leftover spaghetti,” Steve continued, lifting the Tupperware box to draw Tony’s attention to it, “You’re not interested by any chance?”

“Sure, thanks,” Tony answered. It was always handy to have some leftovers in his fridge, especially when he’d come home after having too many drinks, facing the heaviest of cravings. Spaghetti was good. It wasn’t his favorite food, but what the hell. “You’re really making an effort here, aren’t you?” He said, realization dawning on him. Fuck, Steve was _really_ serious about Howard.

“You wouldn’t say it after … what happened in there,” Steve said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the dining room where, no doubt, Howard was emptying a bottle of scotch, “But Howard does love you. He talks about you a lot.”

To that, Tony couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, I find that hard to believe,” He said as he accepted the small box from Steve, “Thanks for the spaghetti.”

Steve’s smile was genuine. “I’ll see you around, Tony.”

-x-x-x-

“I’m not exaggerating,” Tony said into the phone which was pinned between the side of his face and his shoulder. He was pretty sure if he kept up this position, his neck would hate him for the rest of the week, but right now, he needed his hands. All the arguing with Howard had inspired him so he was now tinkering away on a few electronics. He’d already enhanced the range of the remote control of his flat screen TV. He would have so much fun with Rhodey next time he’d come over. “He’s young enough to be his son. It’s disgusting.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Came Pepper’s response. Given the time of the day, Tony knew she would already be in bed, but he also knew she didn’t mind taking his calls at this hour. Besides, this was huge fucking news. If he didn’t call her to tell her, she’d be pissed in the morning.

“Thirty-one, Pepper,” He said, the words twisting in his mouth, that was how uncomfortable he felt about it all, “How does that sound?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Tony echoed. He finally managed to unscrew the bottom of his laptop, opening up the panel, examining the electronics inside. There was definitely more room for some ram-memory. “And he got a big welcome to the Stark family.”

Pepper groaned on the other side of the line. “What happened?” She asked.

“Remember those big fights I used to have with Howard?”

“I do.”

“That happened,” Tony said, sighing, the screwdriver twirling between his fingers now, “There was a lot of screaming. The plus side is, however, that Steve now knows exactly what he’s getting involved with and he seemed okay with it.”

Tony could hear the rustling of sheets in the background of the phone call, so he’d been right about Pepper already being in bed. It was almost midnight, after all. “And what was he like?” She asked.

“An all-out American boy, really,” Tony answered, not having to think about his words. He’d been thinking about Steve since he left his father’s mansion, trying to figure him out, trying to find an answer to the question of whether or not he was sincere. “He was polite,” He continued, “And he did his fucking best to … I don’t know, be my friend?”

“Well,” Pepper said, drawing out the word, and Tony knew she’d spout off some insight now, “If he’s dating Howard, then he probably wants you to like him, and Tony, you can be very intimidating.”

“That’s just it, though,” He said, leaning back against the chair, the laptop in front of him forgotten now. He grabbed hold of his phone and twisted his neck a bit, already feeling his muscles spasming. “He wasn’t intimidated by me at all. Honestly, I get what Howard sees in him. You’d like him instantly, too. Did you know they met working for Shield?”

Pepper hummed. “Interesting.”

“I know, right?” Tony started twisting his office chair around, the tip of his finger tapping against the back of the phone. “He’s nothing like a Shield-agent. You know Coulson, yeah?” He waited for Pepper to hum again. “Coulson is a Shield-agent. There is just nothing in his eyes. They’re all dead inside. But Steve is … different. Maybe that’s why he quit Shield. Or maybe he got sacked. Fuck, why didn’t I ask him that?”

“Really interesting,” Pepper said sweetly.

Tony paused, forcing his chair to stop turning around. “I don’t like your tone, Pep,” He said.

“You sound very interested in Steve, that’s all,” Pepper noted.

Tony couldn’t actually see her, but he knew her well enough to hear her smirk. It was all about her voice. It sounded too sweet and confident. “Really?” He asked, instantly defensive, and fuck, that was the wrong way to handle Pepper. “Are you being serious right now?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“You want to know what I’m thinking?” Pepper asked then, the sweetness dropping from her voice, leaving nothing but earnestness.

Tony didn’t like the sound of that either. “No.”

“Tonight,” Pepper started anyway, “You met the guy your father feels serious enough about to introduce him to you, and you’d hoped to meet someone you could easily hate, but instead you met Steve, a guy you could actually like.”

Tony pressed his teeth together to the point where it hurt, his jaw clenched together. Honestly, Pepper had it all wrong. Maybe she needed sleep. And maybe he _was_ interested in Steve, but only because the guy was apparently going to be a part of the Stark-family now. “Bullshit,” He said after a short silence.

Pepper sighed heavily. “Whatever you say, Tony.”

“How could I possibly like a guy who I just met?” Tony tried arguing with her, which was really his stupidest mistake so far. No one ever won an argument with Pepper.

“I didn’t say you already liked him,” Pepper said, “I said there was a possibility.”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Tony decided, throwing his head back and staring up at the ceiling for a moment, “You’re manipulating me and putting words in my mouth that I don’t actually want to say. You’re mean.”

“I am good at that,” Pepper chuckled.

“Goodnight, Pep,” And with that, Tony ended the call.


	2. Chapter 2

The doors of the elevator slipped open and Tony exited, whistling some nameless tune and smiling at everyone who caught his eye. It was Friday evening, and he was set for a great weekend, starting with a quiet evening at his penthouse, having a drink and watching an old movie. Good prospects. He might even call Rhodey to come and join him, if the guy wasn’t somewhere halfway around the world fighting for peace which would, effectively, put him out of a job. Still whistling, he made his way across the lobby, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, preparing to face a cold May evening.

His gaze fell on a familiar form – broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes. A perfect combination he’d only ever seen once before. Tony halted, eyes narrowing for a second, and then he spun sideways towards the familiar figure, and ah yes, there he was, sitting down by the front desk, head leaning back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling, twirling his thumbs around, and obviously bored.

“What are you doing here?” The words left him before he could stop them. Really, he’d just wanted to go home and not deal with the world for one evening. Why had he opened his stupid mouth?

Steve’s head snapped up and the twirling of his thumbs instantly stopped. “Well, this is the lobby,” He said slowly, almost defensively, which made Tony repeat his own words in his head, and fuck, had he really said that? No wonder so many people thought he was an asshole. “I thought people were allowed to wait here.”

“Yeah, that’s not what I meant,” Tony replied, talking quickly now, hoping to salvage the situation that was just heading towards a bad collision. Sometimes he really ought to think before he spoke. “I mean, why are you here?” That didn’t sound better either, and Steve’s entire body tensed, his jaw clenching together. “Howard’s in a meeting,” He quickly added before he really pissed off the man, which at this point, Tony would totally understand, “And it’s gonna take at least another hour.”

“Oh,” Steve said, his muscles relaxing. Tony couldn’t help the desire to squeeze those big upper arms, feel those muscles for himself, wanting absolute proof that they were real, all for scientific reasons, of course. “Well, I suppose I’ll just wait. I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Tony stared at Steve a second, watching the man fold his hands together and shift in his seat, preparing, mentally and physically, for a long wait. “Okay,” He said after a short silence when it became clear Steve wasn’t going to say anything else. Turning away from the man, he walked away, heading for the spinning door that would lead him into the busy streets of New York.

Only … He couldn’t bring himself to actually step outside, unable to get rid of the image of Steve sitting by the front desk, wasting his time waiting for Howard. That, and he hadn’t forgotten how much of a jerk he’d been during dinner the other day. Maybe he should make that up to him. Also, it was just the right thing to do. If he and Howard were really serious and this was a permanent thing, he should make an effort. See? He could be an awesome son.

Making up his mind, he turned back around and walked back towards Steve. “I can’t bear this,” He said, throwing his hands in the air, demanding Steve’s attention again and getting it. Steve frowned, and Tony didn’t miss how the man tensed again. He really had to stop doing that. He wasn’t a bad guy Steve had to be weary of. “It’s Friday evening,” He continued with a sigh, “And you’re going to spend it waiting here? No, that’s just unacceptable.”

Steve rose from the chair and ran a hand through his short hair. “You want me to leave?” He asked, voice uncertain.

“No, god no,” Tony rambled, shaking his head, “I’m not that big of an asshole.” He offered Steve a grin, relieved that Steve almost instantly returned it with a polite smile of his own. It was progress. “I was gonna go home and have a drink, but I’m changing my plans. Let’s go have a drink together. I know a great place.”

“Uhm,” Steve started, and Tony willed him to agree. He was doing his damn best here. Besides, out of the two options he was faced with, the drinking-option definitely sounded more attractive. “Okay, sure,” Steve said, and Tony mentally high-fived himself, “That actually sounds nice.”

“Great!”

The bar wasn’t far from the Stark Industries building and, with the shortcut, they made it over there in less than two minutes, Tony chatting mindlessly about work as he guided Steve through the crowd. He didn’t even know what he was saying exactly and it probably made little sense to Steve, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that soon, they’d be having a drink together. Howard better be fucking happy about this!

The moment they stepped into the bar – a fancy establishment with little round tables, soft blue lights and jazz music – Tony sucked in a deep breath, letting the warmth wash over him. It really was unusually cold for a May day, though Steve didn’t seem phased by it. He wore nothing more than a black T-shirt and a dark blue sweater, which frankly, Tony thought Steve should wear more. Though he’d only seen the guy twice really. It was irrelevant.

They took a seat at the bar for different reasons, but to Tony, the main reason being that they were close to the alcohol. He shrugged off his woolen coat and waved over the waitress behind the bar. He didn’t have to tell her what they wanted. The young woman poured them two glasses of whiskey on the rocks since it was still early in the evening and set them down in front of them, smiling happily.

“Here you go, gentlemen,” She said.

“Thanks, darling,” Tony replied, winking at her and raising his glass in her direction.

The waitress left to serve other people seated at the bar, and Tony couldn’t help but catch Steve’s gaze which was scrutinizing him again, much like it had after dinner the other day. Tony wasn’t sure what he thought of it. Somehow, it made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. That never happened before.

“I know her,” He said, having the strange urge to explain himself, “I come here a lot.”

“I wasn’t judging,” Steve quickly said, eyes falling to his glass of whiskey, long fingers curling around it.

Tony didn’t say anything and merely raised an eyebrow. Like hell Steve wasn’t aware of his reputation. Everyone knew about his reputation, but the fact was that the tabloids enjoyed exaggerating. Tony’s thoughts were pulled to Steve again when he noticed him blushing and it had nothing to do with the warmth inside the bar.

“Alright,” Steve admitted, “I was _trying_ not to judge.”

Tony grinned. “I’ll give you a point for the effort,” He said before taking a sip from the whiskey.

“And how many points do I have to score for you to like me?” Steve asked, looking up at Tony from underneath dark lashes.

Tony almost groaned. _Almost_. It wasn’t fair that Howard got to be with a handsome man like Steve, while he … He what? It was a ridiculous line of thought that he didn’t bother finishing. Or maybe he was afraid to finish it. Who knew where that would lead?

“Who said I don’t like you? I don’t ask people out for a drink if I don’t like them.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, Tony wanted to hit himself in the face, because fuck, that came out really wrong. “I just need time to get used to the whole you’re-dating-my-dad-thing. It’s weird. You’re younger than I am. See how that’s weird?”

Was he rambling? He was rambling.

“I know,” Steve replied, nodding thoughtfully. He wasn’t aware of Tony’s fumbling behavior, thank god, so Tony just sipped from his whiskey, letting Steve do the talking for a bit. “I freaked out, too, you know? Howard was actually the one holding off the boat for a long time, because you’re right, about what you said during dinner, but we’ve thought about that, too.” Steve sighed, his shoulders falling forward a little. “Of course there will be people who will never believe that what Howard and I have is real, but you know what?” He suddenly straightened his back again and turned his entire body toward Tony, lifting his glass. “Screw them.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, because that, _that_ he hadn’t expected. “That’s actually a really healthy attitude,” He said, raising his own glass and ticking it against Steve’s, like they were having a toast, “I like it.”

Steve drank from his glass, turning back to the bar. “Do _you_ believe us?” He asked suddenly.

Tony bit down on his lower lip, weighing his words. “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” He settled on, and really, Pepper would be proud of that diplomatic answer here. It was better than ‘I believe you deserve better than Howard Stark’. “I think you’re a decent guy, Steve,” He continued, looking everywhere but beside him where Steve was sitting, “Although you did work for Shield. I don’t like Shield-agents. They’re scared of nothing.”

Steve snorted. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day,” He said.

Tony liked this, the drinking and talking. It felt like they were getting a second chance at making a first impression, because fuck, he’d screwed up his _first_ -first impression alright!

“So,” He said after a short silence, wanting to keep the conversation going. Pepper was right, after all, though he’d never admit it to her. He _was_ interested in the mystery that was Steven Rogers. This was the guy who’d been able to make Howard Stark fall in love again and that wasn’t an easy feat. “What are your plans now that you no longer work for Shield? Did Howard offer you a job yet?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t plan to work for Stark Industries,” He answered, gaze on his drink which he was swirling around in his hand, the ice ticking against the glass, “I was thinking about going back to school, actually. After high school, I joined the army and then I somehow got into Shield.”

Tony hummed as he finished the last of his drink. “And have you thought about what you might want to study?”

Steve shrugged. “I always thought History was interesting,” He said, not sounding as excited as Tony had expected him to be, “But Howard thinks that’s a useless degree, right up there with Philosophy and Art, as he put it.”

“Sounds about right,” Tony said, which earned him a sharp look from Steve. He cleared his throat and quickly continued, not liking the way Steve was looking at him now, “But hey, you’re getting involved with a family of engineers. Don’t believe everything we say.”

The features of Steve’s face instantly softened, his blue eyes lighting up with amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind,” He said before he finished the last of his drink, too, “Next drinks are on me, unless you have somewhere else to be. Don’t let me keep you here.”

“No, god no,” Tony said, shaking his head. He liked the idea of having another drink. And talking to Steve was a whole lot easier when Howard wasn’t around to piss him off. “Let’s do some shots!”

Steve smiled and it reached all the way to his eyes. He nodded. “Sure, sounds–” His cell phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans.

Tony watched, with a heavy weight falling on top of his chest, as Steve reached for his phone and flipped it open, checking the message he got. “That’s Howard, isn’t it?” He asked. One look at Steve’s face – it had lit up even more, which Tony decided he hated – told him that it was indeed his father. Leave it to Howard to ruin things.

“Yeah, I should go,” Steve said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He stood and turned to Tony. “Thanks for the drink,” He said and after he threw him one last smile, a small and polite one, he left, leaving Tony sitting alone at the bar.

A cold chill crept down his spine, and Tony tried figuring out what it meant, only to realize that he was simply feeling disappointed. About what, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he was clueless about what it was that Steve saw in his dad. With a sigh, he stood and threw some money down next to his empty glass. He’d done his good deed of the day. He’d gone out for a drink with his _stepdad_ and it had gone rather smoothly. He should feel pleased.

Putting on his coat, he left the bar as well, ready to start the evening he’d been planning since that morning. And if he thought about Steve a few more times that evening, he didn’t mind.

-x-x-x-

“Can’t we just cancel the party?” He asked as he chased a cherry tomato around his plate. He sat back against his chair, his shoulders slumped forward a little. If this was a fancy restaurant and his attitude wasn’t really appropriate, then he didn’t care. He came here once a week, paying way too much for a steak, so if his attitude wasn’t up there with the fancy standards of this place, then fuck them.

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Pepper replied, and for once, she sounded regretful. That didn’t happen a lot. She usually told him to be a man and suck it up.

Tony glanced up at her. She was dressed sharply in a red dress, her lips painted in exactly the same color. Her strawberry blond hair hung loosely around her shoulders and her light brown eyes were focused entirely on Tony. Any other day, he’d throw her a dozen compliments, but not today. No, today he just wanted to wallow in his misery for a bit.

“Why does Howard insist on throwing me a birthday party every year?” He asked, his voice a soft whine. “The only people he invites are rich snobs who use the opportunity to suck up to us.”

Pepper nodded as she took a sip from her white wine. “I know,” She said, putting down her glass again, “But maybe you should have this discussion with your father and not with me.”

“I keep the talking to Howard to a bare minimum,” He replied. Finally he was bored of chasing the cherry tomato around his plate, so he put his fork down and sat up a bit. “For good reason,” He added, just in case Pepper had forgotten how great his relationship was with Howard.

“You see him privately every Sunday evening,” Pepper argued, though her voice remained soft and gentle. Tony didn’t know what he would do without her. She never got angry with him, not even when he was behaving like a five year old. Maybe he should give her a raise. “That’s a good opportunity to talk, Tony.”

At that, Tony snorted. So maybe no raise just yet. “You should have been there last Sunday,” He said, instantly remembering the awkward silence that had just dragged on and on. He’d been home by nine o’clock, which had to have been a record. Also, he’d been well aware of Steve’s absence. “Hardly anything was said,” He shuddered at the memory, “But I did see Steve again, three days ago, Friday evening. He was waiting in the lobby so we went out for a drink and it wasn’t bad at all.”

The smile that curved the edges of Pepper’s lips upward wasn’t one Tony liked. “I knew you’d like him eventually,” She said, cocking her head sideways, “I met him myself a few weeks ago, actually. He’s such a nice guy.”

“Don’t sound so smug,” Tony told her as he ignored the ping of hurt inside his chest. Pepper had met him and didn’t think it was important enough to tell him? He’d met him and called her straight away. Such treason! All possibilities of a raise were now swept clean off of the table. “Liking him has taken a lot of effort on my part, you know.”

“Oh yes,” Pepper said, sarcasm dripping from her voice, “I’m sure it’s actually really horrible to be around him and to like him. He’s such an asshole, after all, isn’t he?”

“Exactly,” Tony said, nodding once, curtly, only to decide that the conversation could turn dangerous. It was for the best that he steered away from it as quickly as possible. Pepper had that horrendous ability to make him say things he didn’t want to say or didn’t even mean to say, after all. “Back to the party,” He said, leaning forward over the table, gazing into Pepper’s light eyes, knowing perfectly well that she knew he was diverting the topic of their conversation, “So who did Howard invite exactly?”

-x-x-x-

A bunch of old men apparently which didn’t surprise Tony in the slightest. Leaning with one shoulder against a white marble pillar, he finished the last of his drink and let his gaze wander around the room for what had to be the hundredth time. Justin Hammer was present, too, standing with Howard, talking, so obviously licking his heels. It was pathetic.

With a bored sigh, he glanced down at his wristwatch. It was ten o’clock which meant that the party – if he could really call this a party – had been going on for about two hours now. Pushing himself away from the pillar, he set his empty glass on one of the round cocktail-tables and made his way through the crowd. A few old men started talking to him, wishing him a happy birthday and asking how he was doing – suck-ups – and a few old women asked him if he hadn’t met someone yet, like it was any of their business.

Finally, he made it to the other side of the room where Pepper was having a drink with Rhodey. When they spotted him, they turned to him and wished him a happy birthday, Rhodey thinking that, apparently, that warranted a slap on the back, hard, making Tony stumble forward a little.

“Can we get out of here now?” Rhodey asked, saying exactly what Tony had hoped to hear.

“God, yes,” Tony sighed dramatically, but not without turning to Pepper, waiting for her approval. She checked the time on her phone, pursed her lips for a second, and nodded. “You have no idea how happy you make me right now,” Tony beamed before kissing her cheek lightly.

“Let’s go,” Rhodey said, taking the lead and guiding them towards the exit, “Is Happy notified?”

“He’s been waiting since nine,” Tony grinned.

“No strip club this year, Tony,” Pepper warned.

Yeah, that had been a bad decision. Not only were the pictures in the newspaper distasteful, but Pepper had been bored out of her mind all evening and night. Sure, there had been a few guys around that lavished her with attention, all customers, but Pepper would never stoop so low as to date a guy that went to a strip club. Tony didn’t blame her. She deserved better than that.

“Come on, hurry up before Howard sees us,” Rhodey said, quickening his pace, glancing around like he was treading through a war-zone.

Tony didn’t even want to think about the possibility of Howard seeing them sneak off. They would be stuck at this pathetic excuse of a party for another hour at least, forced to talk to people that really weren’t as interesting as they thought they were. Like Justin Hammer who was still sucking up to Howard, his fake laugh drifting through the room.

How Howard could stand it, Tony didn’t know. Perhaps it was years and years of training. God, he could only begin to imagine how bored out of his mind Steve had to be! Steve. Tony came to a halt by the door and spun around suddenly, his gaze sweeping across all the faces, searching for a specific set of baby blue eyes.

“What are you doing?” Pepper asked, tugging at his arm.

“Wait for me in the car,” Tony merely replied, “I’ll be there in a moment.”

He pulled himself free of Pepper’s grip and then he was hurrying through the crowd, ignoring everyone who wanted to talk to him, and heading straight for a certain blonde guy. Steve stood at Howard’s side, gaze fixed on the drink in his hand, and Tony couldn’t help but smile. Steve looked as bored as the rest of them were which meant there was hope for the guy yet.

“Hello, there,” He said as he took a hold of Steve’s arm and instantly walked him away from Howard’s side. The last thing he wanted was for Howard to spot him and introduce him to some rich snob. “Are you bored, Steve? You look bored.”

“Wha–” Steve tried pulling his arm free as he looked over his shoulder at Howard – Howard who was blissfully ignorant of the sudden disappearance of his young beau. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving,” Tony explained now that they were standing to the side of the room, a pillar giving them a bit of privacy. Only a bit. He was well aware that people were watching them. “This is a drag and it’s not how I want to spend my birthday. Pepper and Rhodey are coming with me. Are you in?”

“In?” Steve echoed. The confusion in his eyes was adorable.

“Are you coming, too, or not?” Tony asked. He glanced around and saw that Howard had noticed Steve’s vanishing, his dark eyes roaming around the room in search of him. Time was running out. “Come on, Steve; don’t tell me you like being here? No sane person likes being here. So let’s go and live a little.”

Steve bit down on his lower lip – Tony cursed him for it, because that shouldn’t be so attractive – before he nodded. Good, that hadn’t even taken half a minute. “I’m in,” He said, grinning, “What are the plans?”

“We ride with the wind,” Tony announced proudly. He was faintly aware that his hand was still curled around Steve’s upper arm, and yes, those muscles were definitely real. Good to know. For scientific reasons. “Let’s go,” He said, pulling Steve along with him, quickly, somehow expecting the man to change his mind. Would that be a bad thing? He didn’t know. He shouldn’t care. Yet somehow … The idea of exploring the night in New York City with Steve sounded awesome, so he wasn’t going to think too much about it.

They got to the car a few seconds later, and Tony was surprised that Pepper and Rhodey _weren’t_ surprised that Steve joined them. They just greeted him enthusiastically and warned him about all the things that he should avoid, like trying to keep up with the level of Tony’s alcohol-consummation. Tony would have been insulted if it wasn’t for the fact that, yes, he planned on getting completely wasted.

He chose a club none of them had gone to before. It was new and exciting and, since it had a bouncer at the entrance, it had to be at least half decent. Also, paparazzi wouldn’t think to come and look for him here. It was a good choice, and once Tony stood inside the club, listening to a good beat and finding himself surrounded by great looking people, he decided it was an excellent choice.

His company wasn’t as convinced.

“This is going to be great,” Tony told them, his voice loud since the music was drowning out most of their words, “We have to dance!”

“No!” Pepper instantly yelled, shaking her head vehemently.

“Fine,” Tony conceded, but only because the night was still young and there wasn’t nearly enough alcohol in their systems yet. He’d get those fuckers to dance, one way or another. He was even willing to manipulate them by reminding them over and over again that it was his birthday. “Let’s get drinks!” He cheered.

“I’ll get them,” Steve said, and before Tony could go with him, the guy was already gone, forcing his way through dozens of dancing people.

“I’m gonna dance,” Tony told Pepper before turning to Rhodey, “Please tell me you’re not as shy as Pep is.”

“Hell no,” Rhodey grinned, slapping Tony on the back and already walking with him to the dance floor. The music got a faster pace and a famous beat. The people on the dance floor cheered. “There are some great ladies around,” Rhodey said as he took in everyone around them, “As you can see for yourself, and the night is young, my good friend.”

Eventually, Pepper joined them on the dance floor around midnight, finally having had enough drinks to let go a little. Tony danced with her, and drank with her, downing one shot after another. He figured he should drink some water, too, but at this point, Tony couldn’t care about the hangover he’d surly have in the morning. No, he was dancing and drinking and generally having a good night.

There was just one thing that needed to be changed. Right now.

Sneaking up to Steve who was talking to some girl, he snatched his hand and pulled him away from the girl and toward where Rhodey and Pepper were dancing, their bodies sweaty, but not tired at all. Steve loudly protested – something about him not being made for dancing – and told Tony that he was absolutely fine standing by the bar and talking to people.

“You didn’t come with us to just stand around, Steve,” Tony argued, glancing over his shoulder to look Steve in the eye. He shot him a dirty look, because oh, he was going to get his way here. “If that were the case, you could have stayed over at Stark Industries.”

“Well, the music is better here,” Steve said.

“And perfect for dancing!” Tony shrieked. He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound that high, but the truth was that it was close to one in the morning and he couldn’t remember how many drinks he’d had so far. He wasn’t entirely in control of himself anymore and he loved it. “Come on, you’re young. Act like it.”

Steve pressed his lips together and threw Tony a sharp look. “Fine, one song,” He gave in.

“Good enough for me,” Tony grinned, because god knew he wasn’t going to let Steve leave the dance floor after one song. He had yet to use his it’s-my-birthday-excuse and it seemed he’d found the perfect opportunity now.

Steve wasn’t actually that bad of a dancer. The problem lied in the fact that he was insecure and that he didn’t dare use the gift to humanity that was his body. But more drinks happened and Tony didn’t have to use any excuse to keep Steve on the dance floor because as the night went on and the drinks kept coming, Steve was loosening up. By the time it was two in the morning, he’d even unbuttoned his shirt a little and his perfectly gelled hair had become a mess. Tony did his best not to stare, but he gave up once he realized that with all the flashing lights, no one would ever catch his staring.

At three in the morning, they finally decided to go home, or Pepper and Steve – the traitor – decided it. Tony, and Rhodey, was too drunk to argue, and the truth be told, it was nice to get some fresh air after spending so long inside the club. It was a shame that there wasn’t any alcohol inside the limousine, however.

Happy dropped Rhodey off first, Tony already missing him and voicing that thought loudly, because Rhodey was the only one as drunk as he was which meant he was the only one as fun as he was, joking and laughing.

“Happy, you can bring Miss Potts home now,” Steve said.

Tony sent him a strange look, his face twisting and actually hurting. “You just spent the whole evening with her, but you still don’t call her by her first name?” He asked. Or he hoped he asked that. A few words might have been incomprehensible or even missing.

Also, the car was spinning.

Pepper completely ignored Tony. “Thank you, Steve,” She said, “But someone needs to stay with Tony. I made the mistake of leaving him alone last year and I found him sleeping in the hallway on the twentieth floor in the morning.”

“Oh,” Steve said, “Well, you probably have to work tomorrow.”

“Don’t remind me,” She groaned in response.

“I’ll stay with him.”

“And _I_ am sitting right here,” Tony interjected right before he fell sideways, shoulder bumping against Steve. He didn’t have the strength or the will to push himself back again. Besides, Steve’s shoulder was surprisingly soft. “And I no need a babysitter.”

“He’s lost the ability to talk properly,” Pepper said.

“I’m shocked he can still talk at all,” Steve replied, “I’m sure he drank half the bar. I’m surprised he doesn’t have alcohol-poisoning.”

The car came to a halt and Pepper wished them both a goodnight with a kiss to their cheeks.

Tony was alone with Steve, then, still slumped against him, and still willing the car to stop spinning. “Tonight was great,” He drawled, his tongue not cooperating. He shifted a little, repositioning his head against Steve’s shoulder, and closed his eyes which helped against all the spinning. “Glad you were there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Steve replied softly.

There was something hidden in Steve’s voice, but Tony couldn’t put his finger to it. He was too drunk. Twisting his head upward a little, he opened one eye to look at Steve, only to completely lose his balance and nearly fall to the bottom of the car. Steve quickly grabbed him, however, those huge, massive fucking arms of his wrapping around Tony’s torso and keeping him upright.

Tony grabbed hold of them and squeezed. “You’re really strong, aren’t you?” He asked, only faintly aware that he should be really careful now. “You’d be a great P.E. teacher,” He said, “Boys would want to be you and girls would crush on you. And possibly boys, too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve simply replied.

Tony hummed in return as he let his hands fall down. He didn’t trust his voice anymore, nor did he trust his ability to not vomit. Steve must have noticed his nausea, because he helped him lie down, positioning Tony’s head against his thigh. Tony found himself smiling.

“Do warn us if you’re gonna throw up,” Steve said. He rested a hand to Tony’s shoulder.

“I’ll try.”

That was the last thing he remembered that night.

-x-x-x-

Tony woke up with a groan, lifting a hand to touch the side of his head which felt like it was about to explode. Carefully, he fluttered open his eyes and glanced around. He was in his bedroom, lying comfortable in his bed, covered with his satin sheets. He was still wearing his suit from last night which was now hideously wrinkled and, frankly, didn’t smell so good, but someone had removed his shoes and socks.

With an even louder groan, he sat up. The curtains were half-closed, letting in just enough sunlight, so that he could see every detail of his surroundings, but dull enough to not make his head actually explode. His eyes fell on a glass of water standing on the nightstand next to his gigantic bed, along with three aspirins.

Tony dived for the medicine and swallowed down all three pills with some water. All the movement made his stomach twist, but after pausing for a second, he was sure that he wasn’t actually going to throw up. Getting into a different set of clothes was like walking to hell and back, though, and after he finished putting on comfortable sweatpants, he had to pause again. But eventually he managed to get dressed properly.

A minute later, he sauntered down the hallway of his penthouse, heading to the kitchen, smelling coffee in the air suddenly. Had he brought home someone last night? He’d brought home a stripper last year, another reason why Pepper refused to go to a strip club again.

As it turned out, he didn’t bring anyone home from the club, because Steve didn’t count. Still, the sight of the man sitting at his table, drinking a large mug of coffee in his kitchen, was enough to have Tony hesitate for a moment, wanting to take in the way Steve sat at the head of the table, bent over the newspaper, long fingers curled around a coffee-mug. His short blond hair stood a bit wild and he was wearing his trousers from last night, along with a plain white shirt with a V-neck. What drew his attention the most, however, were the glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

“Good morning,” He said, knowing he should draw Steve’s attention before the man accidentally looked up and caught him staring. Not that he was actually staring. He was … Oh, fuck, he’d been staring. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” He noted casually as he strolled deeper into the kitchen and headed for the coffee machine.

“Just for reading,” Steve said, straightening his back and closing the newspaper, “I hope you don’t mind me … having served myself.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. Pressing all the right buttons, he watched with hungry eyes as a mug filled with deliciously smelling black coffee. “You got this thing to work?” He couldn’t help but ask. It was a custom-made machine after all. Not even Pepper could handle it properly.

“Howard has the same one,” Steve explained.

Howard was not who he wanted to think about right now. Tony took a seat at the table, glancing quickly at the front page of the newspaper, relieved to find no picture of him like last year, getting a lap dance. He’d been in trouble then. He’d even had to make a public statement about it. “I hope you enjoyed yourself,” He said, peering over the rim of his mug.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun,” Steve smiled. He removed his glasses and carefully put them away in the pocket of his trousers, which Tony felt was a shame. He looked great wearing glasses. “But I have one regret about last night,” He announced suddenly.

“Oh?”

“I never got to give you your present,” Steve clarified, smiling, his blue eyes lighting up. He stood and walked to the kitchen counter where, yes indeed, a white box with a purple bow stood. Tony didn’t know how he could have missed that. On the other hand, Steve was kinda distracting, especially looking like that. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Tony accepted the box with a sincere thank you and quickly opened it, deathly curious about what Steve could possibly have given him. They hardly knew each other after all.

His lips parted, his breath momentarily trapped within his chest. Inside the box was a six inch Han Solo action figure, complete with a set of little guns and replaceable hands to fit each weapon. Something warm flooded through his entire body, starting in his chest and spreading through his limbs.

“I …” He started, only to find that he had absolutely no words in his head which was pounding considerably less now. He couldn’t believe Steve had remembered that. “You didn’t have to buy me this.”

Steve shrugged and finished the last of his coffee. “Happy birthday, Tony,” He said as he rose to his feet, “And thanks for last night. It really was a lot of fun. I hadn’t danced in ages.”

“You’re a good dancer,” Tony said, looking up at Steve, wondering why on earth that guy was dating, of all the people in this world, his _dad_. The thought was so sudden and intrusive that Tony quickly looked down again, afraid that the thought was written in his eyes for Steve to read.

He dragged a finger down the action figure. It was exactly what he’d wanted when he’d been eight years old, and now he was forty-four, but he felt like that little kid again. Memories of watching those movies over and over again with his mother crashed into his head. “You shouldn’t have spent the night here,” He said, not knowing what else he could say, “Me getting drunk isn’t your responsibility.”

“It was no problem,” Steve told him, “Your couch is actually quite comfortable.”

Tony laughed softly, but he still didn’t look up.

“I gotta go now, though,” Steve said, “I’ll see you on Sunday for dinner.”

Tony nodded, daring to throw Steve one last appreciative glance, and then he watched the man leave. He stared at where Steve sat just a moment ago, the Han Solo action figure in his hands, and he realized that he wouldn’t have minded if Steve had stayed for a little while longer. He realized that he felt alone suddenly, silence heavy around him.

Oh fuck.

He was so screwed.


	3. Chapter 3

The door to his office swung open without any indication. Tony’s head snapped up, momentarily confused as to why his secretary hadn’t warned him, only to find his father marching in, his dark brown eyes narrowed and radiating nothing but frustration and hostility. Tony had seen that look in his father’s eyes enough times to no longer be taken aback by it.

“Sure, come in,” He said. Sarcasm just came to him like a second nature when it came to his father apparently. He just couldn’t help himself. He didn’t grant Howard all of his attention, not after he thought he had the right to just barge into his office, so Tony focused back on his computer, changing a few more details of the blueprint he was working on. “It’s not like I’m busy or anything.”

Howard came to a halt at his desk and leaned forward, hands flat against the wooden surface. “Did you enjoy your birthday?” He asked tightly, head cocked sideways a little.

Tony still didn’t bother to look up. “Depends,” He answered with a heavy sigh, just so Howard would know for sure that he wasn’t at all interested in having this conversation, whatever it was about, “Are you talking about the party or the after-party?”

Howard grabbed deep into the pocket of his vest and dropped a dozen photos on the desk, Tony only lazily picking them up, one by one, trying to understand what Howard’s peeve with those photos were. Frankly, they were great pictures, all taken at the club he’d gone too on the evening of his birthday. They all showed him dancing, occasionally with a drink in his hand. Pepper was in the pictures, too, as were Rhodey and Steve.

“I see,” Tony said, looking up at his father for the first time since he arrived, “Actually, I don’t see … What’s your problem here?” His eyebrows rose as he folded his hands before him on his desk. He hated that Howard stood towering over him, but he wasn’t going to indulge his petty need to make a scene by standing up, too, and preparing for a shout-off. “You know I sneak off every year, so why are you so pissed off this year?” Fuck, Howard hadn’t even looked this angry back when the paparazzi had spotted him at the strip club! “These pictures are actually pretty awesome. And no lap dance this year.”

“You’re supposed to represent everything Stark Industries stands for,” Howard explained with a cold, almost detached voice, “But instead you’re partying like you’re eighteen years old. It’s outrageous!”

Tony snorted. “So what, I’m not allowed to have some fun on my birthday? I’m not even allowed to dance anymore?”

“You can have all the fun in the world, Tony,” Howard argued, his nostrils flaring and his face slowly growing redder and redder, “But why don’t you do it like all the other rich kids in the country? Play golf. Throw your money at supermodels. I don’t care. But _not_ like this.”

Did Howard really just say that? Tony was momentarily lost for words, his lips parted, his eyes narrowed as he took in his father’s appearance, observing the way his hands were balled into tight fists and the way a thick vein was throbbing by his temple, just underneath a patch of grey hair.

“Why don’t you tell me what this visit is really about?” He asked.

Howard stared at him, and for the first time in a very, _very_ long time, Tony felt the uncontrollable urge to escape those dark, glaring eyes. “I want you,” Howard started, pronouncing each word with sharp articulation, “To stay the fuck away from him.”

“Him?” Tony echoed. He glanced down at the pictures that still lay scattered over his desk, his eyes falling on one picture in particular, the best one of them all, really. “Who, Steve?” He looked at the picture that showed Steve on the dancefloor, again, arms up in the air, a drink in his hand, body obviously thrumming along with the fast beat of a good song.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch you ruin him,” Howard said icily.

“Ruin him?” Oh, this was just getting better and better! “He joined me at the after-party,” He said incredulously, a look of pure confusion, anger and insult on his face, “Because he’s thirty-one years old and he can make his own decisions. I didn’t force him to come along.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near him again,” Howard warned with an accusing finger pointed in Tony’s direction, “I don’t want to see you taint him with your distasteful and disgraceful lifestyle.” With those words, he stormed off, slamming the door shut behind him for everyone on the floor to hear.

Tony stared at the closed door for a long time afterwards, half expecting his secretary to come in and ask if he were okay – she didn’t – while unable to bring himself to move. This wasn’t the first fight he’d had with Howard and it definitely wouldn’t be the last one, but somehow … It had been years since he’d felt so hurt by his father’s words. It had been years since he’d felt that familiar painful sting to his chest, accompanied with a sudden surge of rage.

With a feral growl and one smooth movement, Tony jumped up, knocking his chair down, and shoved the contents of his desk onto the floor, his computer crashing to the ground with a loud bang and the pictures of the after-party flying everywhere.

He fucking hated Howard.

-x-x-x-

He’d never counted all of the channels his TV received, but given that he’d been going through them, one by one, for ten minutes already, Tony had to assume there were a whole fucking lot. He wasn’t even looking for something interesting to watch anymore. He just kept pressing that one button of the remote control again and again, his thumb working on automatic pilot. Tony wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. He wasn’t even looking at the TV anymore.

No, his eyes were glued to the six-inch action figure that he’d propped up against the side of the TV. He’d considered throwing it out a dozen times already, once having actually stood by the trash-bin, the figure hovering over it, but Tony hadn’t been able to actually do it. He didn’t know why he wanted to keep the stupid toy.

The ringing of his cell phone abruptly pulled him out of his thoughts. He didn’t have to check the display to know who was calling. Only two persons in this world had earned the privilege of getting a personalized tune, and Tony knew it wasn’t Rhodey. With a disgruntled sigh – he’d heard that tune a hundred times already that day – he threw the remote control aside and picked up his cell phone instead.

“Finally!” Came Pepper’s relieved voice. “Tony, why weren’t you picking up your phone? I’ve been worried sick!”

“Maybe I didn’t pick up my phone because I didn’t want to talk to you,” Tony replied, fully aware of how bitter and mean he sounded. He should apologize, he really should, but he couldn’t bring himself to. With a shrug, he grabbed the remote control again, switched off the TV and then tossed the little device aside again.

“Tony,” Pepper said, her voice soft and cautionate, “Are you drinking?”

Tony’s gaze shifted to the small coffee table in front of the couch, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a full glass on it. He couldn’t remember whether he’d opened that bottle that evening or not which probably answered his question. “I’ve earned the right for once,” He settled on, sighing and letting his head fall back against the couch.

“I’m coming over.”

“No,” Tony instantly objected, eyes squeezed shut as he pinched the bridge of his noise. God, he wanted to get drunk. “No, I don’t need a babysitter,” He snapped.

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, followed by a deep, almost conflicted sigh. “And what about a friend?” Pepper asked. She sounded compassionate and concerned and everything else Tony couldn’t stand right now. He wanted to curse her for it.

Still, this was Pepper, one of his only true friends, and even after all the shit he put her through, she stuck by his side. “I’m not great company right now,” He said quietly, “Can’t I have one evening of wallowing and sulking?”

“It’s been ages since you’ve felt this bad,” Pepper noted, “What happened?”

Tony sucked in a deep breath to steady himself. So many things had happened lately, but there was that one small detail that had really pushed him over the edge. “He called me a crap son,” He explained, hating the fact that he couldn’t even bring himself to be seething with rage anymore. He didn’t know where that left him. He just felt drained and empty. God, he needed more alcohol in his system! “It’s Sunday evening and I’m sitting in my penthouse, thinking that maybe he’s right.”

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper sighed, “I’m so sorry.”

Tony reached for the glass of whiskey and emptied it in one go, the amber-colored liquid burning his throat. He squeezed his phone between the side of his face and his shoulder, needing to pour himself another drink. “Sure, we fight and scream at each other all the time,” He said, “But now … Fuck. He meant what he said, Pepper, he meant every word.”

Again, there was silence, and Tony could almost hear Pepper think. “Does this have anything to do with Steve?” She asked carefully.

Tony emptied his glass again, a shiver running down his spine when he swallowed it all down. His stomach was going to destroy him in the morning. “This has nothing to do with him,” He forced out. He stood and headed for the bar by the window, needing a new bottle of booze. “This is all Howard being an asshole.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Pepper asked.

“No, Pep,” Tony told her, eying his collection of alcohol, “There’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office.” He didn’t wait to hear Pepper’s response. He ended the call and tossed his phone onto the couch, all the way on the other side of the room.

With shaking hands – because he was getting drunk, because he was so goddamn angry, because Howard didn’t have the right to make him feel like shit – he grabbed a new bottle of whiskey and returned to the couch, determined to end the evening in oblivion.

-x-x-x-

There was a short, but loud beep, indicating that his secretary was calling him. Tony finished the sentence he was writing for the report – he actually needed to write some reports since he’d have to lead the board meeting next week which wasn’t something he was looking forward to – and pressed on the green button of the phone.

“Mr. Stark,” His secretary said as soon as the line connected. Her voice was soft and kind as usual. “Mr. Rogers is here to see you.”

Tony frowned, his mind instantly racing to find a reason as to why Steve could be here to see him personally. “Send him in,” He said after a few seconds. Letting the man wait outside would just be rude. And he felt really curious to discover what he was doing here.

The door to his office opened, slowly and with a squeaky sound, Steve peeking his head in. “Am I interrupting?” He asked. Tony bit down on his lower lip, trying to prevent himself from smiling like a fool at the sight of him. He convinced himself that he was only smiling because the sight was so funny, not because Steve was here to see him. “I can come back.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Tony replied, waving him in. Screw his father. Besides, this was Steve coming to him. There was nothing he could do about that, right? They lived in a free country. “What can I do for you?” He asked, and a sudden dreadful feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps Steve was here to yell at him, too. Tony quickly shoved that thought aside. He didn’t pin Steve as a yelling kind of man.

“I was on my way to meet Howard, we’re going out for lunch,” Steve explained as he walked into the office and toward Tony’s desk. It took all off Tony’s will to listen to him and not just gape at him. Fuck, what was he wearing? Steve took a seat and leaned back into the chair, looking relaxed and comfortable. “But I thought I’d stop by here first. I wanted to thank you.”

“Uhm, okay,” Tony replied, focused on the conversation again. He’d lost track of it before it had even started. That never happened to him. “What for?”

Steve reached into the pocket of his leather vest – it should be illegal for Steve to wear black leather along with black trousers and boots – and took out a piece of paper, holding it out for Tony to take, which he did. “It’s official,” He said contently as he leaned back into his seat and ran a casual hand through his short, blond hair, “I’m going back to school in August.”

Tony’s eyes scanned the paper. Steve had chosen the University of New York, a fine choice, and obviously influenced by one Howard Stark. “And you’re thanking me why?” He asked, still confused about this whole conversation. Not that he was regretting having this conversation to begin with. No, he enjoyed talking to Steve. The guy was always so relaxed and happy. Oh, and there was the small fact that there was no way Tony could get passed the fact that Steve was hot.

“You inspired me,” Steve explained.

Tony scanned the classes Steve was going to take the first semester. There are five in total. “You’re going to be a teacher,” He concluded, frowning, though he wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Thinking about it, yeah, he could definitely see him controlling a classroom full of nasty teenagers. “A History teacher.”

There was a short silence. Tony looked up to meet Steve’s slightly narrowed blue eyes. Did he say something wrong? He shifted in his seat, already feeling uncomfortable, and then Steve burst with laughter. He even threw his head back as the deep, rumbling sound shifted through the air. It was the first time Tony heard it, and God, it was a good sound.

“You don’t remember,” Steve laughed as he turned his attention back to Tony.

Tony had enough of not knowing what half this conversation was about, annoyance flickering through his body. “Apparently not,” He said, handing the certificate of registration back over to Steve, their hands touching for a moment. He hadn’t expected Steve’s hands to be so cold.

“Well, you _were_ wasted,” Steve chuckled as he put the piece of paper back into the pocket of his leather vest, “You said I’d be a great P.E. teacher in the car after your birthday party, and that got me thinking.”

Tony smiled. “That’s great,” He said, “I’m sure you’ll knock those classes out of the park.”

Steve was smiling back at him, his soft blue eyes alight with elation.

“Does Howard know yet?” He couldn’t help but ask. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine his father being happy about Steve’s choice. Then again, there were two versions of the guy; one that he knew and had grown up with, and one everyone else had come to know.

“I told him Sunday evening,” Steve answered, the laughter gone now. There was only sincerity left in his voice. “I was kind of hoping you had been there, too.”

Tony’s stomach twisted painfully at Steve’s words. The rotten bastard hadn’t told him anything about what had happened between them, about his cruel words and vicious accusations. Tony fought the urge to ball his hands into fists, to burst with rage and tell Steve everything Howard had thrown in his face, but instead he inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm. Pepper would have been proud. If only Steve knew about Howard being the crap dad of the year.

“Yeah, sorry, something came up,” He settled on, well aware that his voice sounded tense and forced.

The calm and serene look on Steve’s face disappeared, worry instantly lining his features, but he stayed quiet. Slowly, he folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them. Tony could practically hear him think and he knew it wasn’t anything good. How could it be? Only Steve wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t surprise him at that moment.

“Listen, I know Howard is leaving Friday evening for London,” Steve said, looking up to meet Tony’s gaze. He offered him a small, more controlled smile. “But you can still come over Sunday evening for dinner. I’ll cook us some spaghetti again.”

There were so many things Tony wanted to answer to that, so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t ignore the loud blaring of an alarm going off in his head. “That’s really kind,” He said, voice soft and verging on the edge of sad. It made him wonder why and how he was so easily reduced to this state. “I already have plans with Pepper.”

That had to be the biggest lie of the day, but Tony didn’t know what else to say. Having dinner alone with Steve? Getting to know him even more and being in close proximity to him? No, Tony knew better than to tempt himself. “Besides,” He added, “I don’t like spaghetti all that much. Howard’s wrong. As usual.”

Steve’s lips were pressed together, his gaze wide and hurt. “Oh.”

Tony couldn’t stand it and he cursed himself for being such an inconsiderate jerk. Fuck, why did this have to happen to him? Was this karma? It had to be. “Not that your spaghetti is bad,” He said, fully aware that he was making one, big mess of it, but again, perhaps he deserved this, “I really liked it. I just like pizza more.”

Steve shook his head and the smile that curved his lips upward now was cold and fake. “It’s fine, Tony,” He said, sounding slighted, and Tony couldn’t blame him, “You don’t have to lie to protect my feelings. If you don’t want to hang out, you can just tell me. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

“No, I’m not–” _Fuck_. What the hell was he supposed to say? That it was Howard who wanted Tony to stay away from him? He didn’t even know if Steve would believe him. Besides, Tony didn’t _want_ to listen to his father. Screw him. But the truth remained that all this was getting so very dangerous and he wanted to distance himself from it as much as he could. “I’m not protecting you or lying to you,” He said, exasperated, “I just ... Howard and I, we aren’t exactly … You know, I really don’t understand how you can love that guy.”

Steve was picking at his nails now, gaze down, and Tony could tell he was struggling with something. He should say something, anything, but he couldn’t even bring himself to form proper thoughts anymore.

“I lost my best friend,” Steve said suddenly, gaze still down, “A mission went wrong and I watched my best friend die, and when I came back, I was forced to talk to a dozen psychologists and psychiatrists, and I couldn’t stand it.” When he looked up to meet Tony’s gaze, his blue eyes spoke of nothing but sorrow. “I had to keep busy, though, or I would lose my mind. I was allowed to keep testing weapons for Stark Industries, and there I got talking to Howard and he listened to me without having to be paid for it.”

Tony didn’t know what he could possibly say to that. It explained why he no longer worked for Shield, but other than that, his mind was still a blank. He always had a smart answer ready, a joke or a quip, he always knew when to deflect a possibly dangerous situation, but right now, he could only stare at Steve, and for the first time he saw sadness to his feature that he hadn’t noticed before. He suddenly looked so much older than he really was.

“I know you and your father don’t get along,” Steve continued softly when Tony remained quiet, “You two are like fire and ice, but there _is_ a side to him that you don’t know about, like there’s a side to you that he doesn’t know about.”

Tony sighed heavily and ran a hand through his brown hair. “So I’ve been told,” He said.

Steve stood. “I gotta go now. I’ll see you around, Tony.”

He watched Steve walk out of his office before dropping his head to the surface of his desk, eyes squeezed shut to the point where he saw a thousand white stars dance before his vision. He thumped his forehead against the wood a few times, chastising himself. He was the biggest fucking idiot in the universe.

He was falling for Steve, and he was falling really fucking hard.

-x-x-x-

Only he wasn’t. Tony decided that he was acting ridiculous. He wasn’t falling for Steve at all. He just thought he was, because right now, he was the one guy in the city that he couldn’t have. Hence, he wanted him. The logic was infallible. And to prove it, Tony decided to just … move on, and what better place to start than at some fancy club?

Tony stood at the bar, a martini in his hand as he scanned the crowd. He didn’t approach anyone, though, not even the tall redhead with legs that seemed to go on and on. No, he bided his time, leisurely sipping from his drink. The night was still young.

It took only a few minutes before a blonde came to stand beside him, one elbow resting on the bar, her entire body turned to Tony. “Mr. Stark,” She said, her voice sweet, yet there was enough of a sharp edge to it to draw Tony’s attention, “What a coincidence to spot you here.”

He turned to her, eyes slightly narrowed. She obviously knew who he was, and one look at her and he knew he’d met her before somewhere, somehow. She had a round face, light brown eyes and shoulder-length blond hair, and when she smiled, her lips only curled ever so slightly, the smile tight. There was no denying that she was beautiful, and she knew it. She radiated nothing but confidence. Tony already liked her – or so he told himself.

“Christine Everhart,” She introduced herself, extending a small, slender hand.

Tony pursed his lips for a second, and ah yes, the memories of their encounter returned to him, vaguely. He wasn’t interested in any of that, though. He couldn’t care less about whatever past they shared, whether he’d hit on her before or just gave her an interview. She was a journalist, after all, that much Tony remembered. Right now, however, she was a challenge and he accepted that challenge with both hands, literally. He took hold of Christine’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it.

“Care for a drink, Miss Everhart?” He asked. “I’m sure you’d like to have a chat with me, for journalistic purposes, of course.”

He could see her contemplating his offer, but he was confident about the outcome. A journalist getting the opportunity to share a drink with him? They all jumped at that chance, and he was proven right. Christine inclined her head, her blond hair falling before her eyes. She curled it neatly behind her ears. Tony recognized flirting when he saw it. He tried not to think about a certain other blonde.

“Just one,” She said.

It started with one. It ended with … Tony didn’t know and he didn’t care. The evening had started in the club and it ended in his penthouse, Tony ripping the clothes off of her body while she did the same to him, hands running over and nails scratching at naked skin, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. It was a miracle they made it to his bed, crashing down on top of the silky, red sheets, limbs entangled. Tony kissed a path down her neck, sucking ever so gently, grinning at the way she moaned.

He forbade himself from thinking about what he was doing. He simply touched her, enjoying the way her body arched whenever he did. Christine’s hands roamed down his chest, across his hips, and reached behind him to squeeze his ass. Tony buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and smelling nothing but her flowery perfume. It made him feel desperate and cheap, but still he didn’t stop.

And afterwards, he fell asleep, lying close the edge of the bed with Christine on the other side. He didn’t bother thinking about what he was doing or why. No, that would just lead to unwanted thoughts and emotions. He closed his eyes, the last thrills of pleasure still coursing through his veins, before drifting off into oblivion, faintly recognizing a pattern these last few days.

When he woke up, it took him about three seconds to realize what he had done. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing a hand across his still tired face, forcing himself to chase away the last traces of exhaustion. He’d dreamt, image after image crashing into his head, but he couldn’t make any sense of it. There had been faces, but he couldn’t remember who’s anymore.

Groaning, he got up, pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and a white shirt, and stumbled out of the bedroom, fully aware that there was still a woman sleeping in his king sized bed.

The floor was cold beneath his bare feet, a chill running down his spine, but Tony kept walking, heading into his spacious kitchen. A part of his dream returned to him, and he remembered seeing Steve sitting at his kitchen table, smiling at him and drinking his coffee. He remembered how Steve had stood and walked to him, hands folding around his. He couldn’t remember anything else.

Grabbing the phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart, listening to the familiar beeping of the device as the line connected. Tony willed her to pick up, needing to talk to her. Seconds ticked by, and Tony found himself sliding to the floor against the kitchen-cabinets, knees pulled up to his chest. The ringing continued, and he grew impatient, only to realize that it was still early in the morning, the sun not even up yet.

Finally, she answered.

“Tony?”

Tony exhaled when he heard her groggy voice, releasing a breath he hadn’t known to be holding. “I screwed up, Pep,” He told her, “I screwed up big.”

“Do you want me to come over?” She asked.

Tony smiled faintly. “That would be really awesome.”

Pepper entered his penthouse ten minutes later.

Tony hadn’t moved from where he was sitting, the phone still in his hand. He heard the ticking of her heels against the hardwood floor first, the sound getting louder and louder, and then she walked into the kitchen, halting when she spotted him. Tony could tell she had been asleep when he’d called her. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. She was dressed in blue jeans and a plain red blouse, accompanied with red heels. He admired her talent for throwing on some clothes in a matter of seconds and still looking great.

She came to sit beside him, hooking an arm with his and resting her head on top of his shoulder. “So,” She started tenderly, “What’s going on with you?”

Tony let his head fall sideways so it leaned against the top of Pepper’s head. “I’m making a mess of it,” He replied with a heavy sigh, “One, bit, giant, mess.”

Pepper rubbed soothing circles into the skin of Tony’s arm with her thumb. “What are you talking about?”

There was no easy way to tell her, no words that would make the truth any less ugly. “I like him,” He explained, his voice so soft that he wondered if Pepper could still hear him. Her thumb stopped moving for a second, indicating that she had heard him loud and clear, before she continued with the circles. “I thought it was just something platonic, an innocent crush, but I really like him.”

“Oh, Tony,” Pepper sighed.

“Typical me, right?” He asked. “Falling for the one guy I can’t have …”

Pepper didn’t say anything, and Tony was kinda grateful for that. He had a fairly good idea about what she was thinking right now – how he was a fool, how he always complicated things, how he always made a mess of everything – and he didn’t want her to say any of it out loud. He hated himself enough already as it as.

“What are you going to do?” She asked.

“What can I do?” Tony answered, shrugging one shoulder. He picked up his head again and gazed down at the floor. “Be the crap son Howard already thinks I am and break them up? Do you think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“You’re an asshole,” Pepper said without missing a beat, “But no, not that big of an asshole.”

“Thanks, I think,” Tony replied with half a smile, “I guess I have to stay away from him and let whatever it is that I’m feeling die a slow death.”

Pepper nodded against his shoulder. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They sat together for a few more minutes, silence filling the kitchen, but Tony was okay with that. It offered him the chance to straighten out his thoughts. He knew what he had to do now, no matter how hard it would be, and hey, there might even be a plus side to all of this; Howard would be so fucking pleased. The thought caused his chest to constrict, his heart making a painful beat. He had a few rough days ahead, he was well aware of that, and he knew he couldn’t stoop so low again as he’d done last night. That had been a gigantic mistake.

“Christine Everhart is in my bedroom,” He announced.

“What?” Pepper instantly straightened up, hitting the side of Tony’s shoulder, almost making him fall sideways. Not that she used a lot of strength, this was still Pepper after all, but Tony hadn’t seen the slap coming. “Why?” She demanded.

“Why do you think she’s in my bedroom?” Tony asked, pulling an affronted face as he rubbed his shoulder. “Because we played Monopoly all night?”

“Of all the men and women in New York,” Pepper started, each word slowly spoken, like that was the only way Tony would understand her, “You brought home the one who wrote that you have an ego the size of the Chrysler building and a list of conquests behind your name that would make Casanova blush?”

Tony narrowed his eyes for a second. “She wrote that?”

“Yes, last September,” Pepper said, “For the Daily Bugle.”

“That’s strong coming from her,” Tony smirked, “Given that she’s in my bed right now.”

Pepper slapped his shoulder again. “You’re going to fix this,” She snapped angrily. Tony threw her a pained expression this time, but she ignored it. “You’re going to fix this right now, Tony.”

“Will you throw her out?”

“Hell no,” Pepper all but shrieked. She stood and crossed her arms before he chest. “You can dump your own one-night-stands.”

With a disappointed and disgruntled sigh, Tony stood up, too. “Fine,” He mumbled as he walked past her and out of the kitchen.

He hated dumping one-night-stands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With some delay ...

He rode the elevator down by himself, leaning back against the mirror-wall, thankful for the silence around him. After spending most of his afternoon with Howard, discussing the last details of the board meeting he couldn’t attend since he had to go to London, Tony had had enough of people talking his ears of. It was Friday evening and all that he wanted to do was go home, wait for Rhodey to show up, and share a few pizzas together.

The elevator came to a halt, the doors sliding open, and Tony stepped out into the lobby, ready to end this hell-week. A few people greeted him as he passed, wishing him a good weekend, and Tony actually felt confident about his prospects. It would indeed be a good weekend.

After he tossed the girl behind the front desk a smile – she looked particularly nice today – he walked through the spinning doors, warm evening air instantly hitting his face. It seemed the cold winter was finally behind them. With his smile still in place, Tony turned to look to his left, searching for Happy who was going to drive him home, only to spot his father’s black SUV.

His smile instantly vanished.

Howard stood on the sidewalk, a hand on Steve’s hip, both smiling. Tony couldn’t help but stare. The two men exchange a few words that Tony couldn’t hear, and that was probably for the best. He didn’t want to know what Howard was telling Steve right now. That he loved him? That he would miss him? That he would think of him in London? Tony felt sick to his stomach, and something sharp and heavy pressed on his chest.

Howard leaned forward as his other hand slipped through Steve’s hair. He pressed a kiss to the man’s lips.

Tony wanted to shove them apart. He wanted to push his father into the SUV and tell him to not bother coming back from London. Instead, he did nothing. He watched as Howard got into the car and drove off a few moments later, and he watched Steve following the car as it drove away.

Before Tony was aware of it, those soft blue eyes landed on him. He swallowed heavily, his grip on his briefcase tightening. For a long moment, nothing happened, and then Steve took a step toward him. Tony didn’t know what he should do. He just remembered what he told Pepper. _I have to stay away from him._ That was all he needed to know really. With one swift, determined movement, he spun around, away from Steve, and walked toward his own car, Happy patiently waiting for him behind the wheel.

His heart was thumping violently against his ribs, his legs shaking, like they refused to work anymore, like they cursed Tony for walking away from him.

“Drive,” He told Happy, needing to be taken away from him before he changed his mind about everything.

He kept his eyes firmly ahead, not even allowing himself to look into the side-mirror to see Steve’s reaction. Would he be hurt? Confused? Angry?

Happy easily navigated his way through New York City, to Tony’s penthouse by Central Park. Tony had hoped that as more distance fell between him and Steve, that sharpness and heaviness would disappear, that it would stop cutting him as much, but he was wrong. He didn’t know why it got to him as much as it did.

He only knew that walking away had been hard, but that it had been the right thing to do.

-x-x-x-

It had been almost a week, and Tony had barely been thinking about Steve. The only times it happened was when Howard sent him a short mail, keeping him updated on the congress in London, so he was proud of himself. And he hadn’t brought home any one-night-stands anymore either, which Pepper was decisively happy about since she thought it sexist when Tony brought home women just for sex. She had a point.

All parties were happy.

The TV was playing in the background, and Tony was preparing for a quiet Thursday evening. Standing by the bar, he shifted through take-out menus, unable to decide whether to get Chinese, Thai or Mexican food, but he didn’t get the chance to make up his mind.

The light of the elevator jumped on, indicating that someone on the ground level wanted to come up to his penthouse, only that person obviously didn’t have the code since the light was red.

“Jarvis?” Tony asked.

“ _Mr. Rogers wants to gain access to the elevator,_ ” Came the typical soft, English-accented voice. Tony would have asked Edwin Jarvis to actually provide his voice for the artificial intelligence, but as honored as Jarvis had been that Tony named the A.I. after him, he hadn’t been prepared to go quite that far.

“Steve?” Tony couldn’t help but ask aloud. What on earth was the guy doing here? Hadn’t it been obvious that he was avoiding him? He’d been a dick, what with just walking away last Friday, but now he was here? To see him? “Let him up, Jarv,” He said after a short moment of contemplation, his curiosity getting the best of him.

The light of the elevator jumped to green. Tony tossed the take-out menus onto the bar, suddenly not as hungry anymore, and crossed the open-spaced living room, positioning himself closer to the elevator, but not too close. He didn’t want to crowd Steve after all. Besides, he didn’t know what he was doing here. For all he knew, Steve was pissed off and wanted to take a swing at him. Tony wouldn’t be able to blame him.

After a few seconds, the doors of the elevator slid open, and there he was, Steve Rogers, looking like he’d been ripped straight out of some fancy magazine. His hair was smoothed back, and he was wearing that leather jacket again that should be made illegal. The jeans that he wore made his legs seem like they went on forever.

But he wasn’t pissed, that much Tony could tell. Steve’s hands were buried deep in the pockets of his jeans, and he kept switching his weight from one foot to the other. It was adorable, really, especially when he aimed those big blue eyes at Tony, so insecure and careful. Tony already felt his heart thump in his throat, just by looking at him. It was getting ridiculous.

“If you’re gonna stay in the elevator,” He said after a short silence in which it became clear that Steve had absolutely no idea what he should do, “It’s going to take you down again.” Tony wished he had something to do with his hands, really, and oh hey, look at the time! It was actually a decent hour to get a drink in his hands, and in Steve’s, too. The guy looked like he could use one.

Tony turned away from Steve and walked back to his private bar which had just been re-stocked – thank you very much, Pepper Potts – and he scanned all the options he had.

“Want a drink?” He asked, just to ask something, really. The silence in the penthouse was dragging on a bit too long. Tony started to feel uncomfortable. He looked up from all the different and very expensive bottles of alcohol to see Steve take three careful steps into his penthouse, like he was expecting a trap somewhere.

“I’m sorry for just … showing up,” Steve finally spoke.

Tony wanted to tell him that it was absolutely fine, that he could show up any time, but there were still a few words firmly carved in his mind; _I have to stay away from him and let whatever it is that I’m feeling die a slow death._ Only, whatever he had felt before, it was as strong as ever; just looking at the man had something warm and exciting twist within him. He refused to admit they were butterflies. He was Tony Stark. He didn’t do butterflies. But whatever it was, he couldn’t force it away, not when Steve was looking back at him with puppy blue eyes. And sure he could try and stay away from him, but he couldn’t expect the same from Steve. He couldn’t send him away.

“It’s alright,” He said, waving a casual hand around. He picked up a bottle of whiskey, which was always a fine choice, and poured two glasses. He stepped around the bar and walked toward Steve, holding out a glass for him to take, which he did. His hand was as cold as he remembered it to be. “So what can I do for you?”

Steve looked down at the drink in his hand, like he actually contemplated drowning in it. He definitely couldn’t hide the sad smile that curled the edges of his lips upward. He was shaking his head a little, and Tony was willing to pay a lot of money to know what was on his mind right now, to know what had happened that made Steve look like he was utterly lost in this big, bad world. “I don’t even know why I’m here, really,” He said.

Not just his smile was sad, but the tone of his voice was exactly the same. Tony took an instinctive step toward him, only to stop himself. He shouldn’t get too close, one way or another, literally or figuratively. “What’s wrong?” He asked. He couldn’t stand to see Steve like this.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Steve answered. He looked back up, and Tony realized that the man was trying to convince _him_ of that fact as much as he was trying to convince himself, “It’s just that … since Howard left, I’ve been all alone at the house. I mean, Jarvis is there, too, sure, but the man has his work to deal with, so I feel like I haven’t really seen anyone in so long and I realized that …” He stopped then, gaze back down. He bit down on his lower lip.

Tony willed him to go on. “You realized what?” He asked. He could be the friend Steve needed right now, and it looked like he needed one alright.

“I realized that I don’t really have friends here in New York,” Steve said, laughing softly, though there was nothing amusing about his words or about the way he held himself, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible.

Tony had never seen Steve like that before, though if he thought about it, there wasn’t really a reason for Steve to show him how sad he actually felt or to confide in him. It probably took a lot of strength.

“Well, you’ve come to the right penthouse,” He said, wanting to put a genuine smile on Steve’s face. It suited him so much better after all. “I was just about to order some food. How do you feel about pizza?”

It worked, and Tony felt the warm feeling of fondness settle in the pit of his stomach. Steve smiled and inclined his head. “That sounds great, actually,” Steve replied.

Tony flashed him a wide grin and turned around. As he passed the couch, he grabbed the phone from the coffee table and already dialed a number he knew by heart. There was this perfect place to get some pizzas from; the best ones in the city, and Steve deserved the best.

“I haven’t had pizza in ages,” Steve said once Tony was done making the order.

“Blasphemy!” Tony gasped. He tossed the phone onto the couch and walked to the bar again. He needed some ice in his drink. He didn’t have any intention of getting drunk tonight, after all, which was probably a first this week. He always threw glances in Steve’s direction, wanting to look at the man as much as possible while he still could. He expected Steve to change his mind any minute now.

“Howard hates them,” Steve explained. He slowly walked toward the lowered area of the penthouse where the couch stood. He was still unsure of what he was doing or where he was allowed to sit, and Tony couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He was adorable, which was a strange combination with his hotness. God, Tony hoped he’d keep that black leather jacket on all evening – and it seemed Steve had finally made up his mind to stay here for the evening. Tony instantly felt more at ease.

“Of course he does,” He said, rolling his eyes. “Go on, sit down,” He said when Steve still hadn’t taken a seat, motioning toward the couch before focusing back on the ice he was dropping into his drink, “We’ll put on some god-awful movie and–”

Steve hadn’t taken a seat as he’d expected. Instead he’d walked to the TV, and Tony watched him pick up the Han Solo action figure.

“That was a really awesome birthday present.”

“You know,” Steve said, carefully putting the action back against the side of the TV, “I’ve never actually seen those movies before.”

Tony gasped at that, shock filling him. “That’s twice now that you’ve committed blasphemy,” He said, shaking his head in disapproval. He walked toward the couch and dropped down on it, draping an arm over the edge. “You’re getting out of control, Rogers.”

“Well,” Steve said, turning to Tony, grinning, “Why don’t you show me what Star Trek is all about then?”

“Star Tre–!” Tony was about to burst from his skin and his mind seemed to have crashed straight into a brick wall. He doubted he could form coherent sentences anymore. “You think Han Solo is from Star Trek? Han Solo isn’t from Star Trek, Steve; he’s from Star _Wars_ –”

Steve bit back laughter.

“And you were making a joke, weren’t you?”

Steve burst with laughter, his whole body vibrating with it. “God, you should have seen your face!” He could hardly breathe, and Tony shot him a dark look. Still, Steve was laughing again, his previous melancholic mood ebbing away with every passing second. And he had such a good laugh, too, deep and vibrating.

God, what was he doing? Tony honestly didn’t know anymore. “Very funny, Rogers,” He said. He brought his glass to his lips and took a sip from the whiskey, his head still shaking with disbelief. Steve finally came to sit down, too. “Some things you don’t make fun of,” He added, feigning annoyance, “Like Star Wars.”

The pizzas arrived about thirty minutes into the movie. Steve had been so engrossed in the storyline that he had the crap scared out of him when he suddenly heard Jarvis announce the arrival of the pizza-boy downstairs. Tony had called it payback before leaving the penthouse for a minute, having to go down to the lobby of the building to get the pizzas and pay for them.

They ate while watching the movie, Tony pointing out fun facts and Steve asking a hundred questions, like what happened to Darth Vader that made him wear a mask all the time or why his voice sounded so distorted.

The movie ended too soon. Tony wanted to ask if Steve would like to see the second one, but it was close to eleven o’clock and he didn’t know what Steve’s plans were. So he didn’t say anything as they watched a few minutes of the credits, name after name appearing on the screen.

“I really liked it,” Steve said after a short silence. Somewhere down the line, he’d gotten comfortable enough to lose his shoes and curl his legs underneath him. He’d also lost his jacket, but Tony hadn’t minded when he’d discovered Steve was wearing a black shirt that might just be a size too small, making the muscles of his arms appear even bigger. “You should show me the second one some other night.”

Tony wanted to do nothing more than show him the second one right now. That would mean Steve wouldn’t leave yet. Tony didn’t want him to leave, which might be the sappiest thought he’d had in years. Tony smiled at him, wishing he could tell the man just what he did to him, how much he screwed with his head, but then … He’d only push him away.

Maybe that was exactly what he needed to do then. This was getting dangerous, after all, and whatever intention Tony had had about keeping distance between them, about letting whatever he felt for him die a slow death, it was all being thrown straight out of the window.

“Listen, Steve–”

“Can I ask–?”

Tony chuckled and threw his gaze down.

“You were going to say?” Steve asked.

“No, no,” Tony said, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. God, maybe it was for the best that they had spoken at the same time. And maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that he should keep his mouth shut. He should be content with having Steve as his friend, because that was what they were right now; friends hanging out and watching a movie together. “You wanted to ask something?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, releasing a heavy breath. He angled his entire body toward Tony and folded his hands in his lap. He looked like he did at the beginning of the evening again, when he’d stepped out of the elevator; uncertain, troubled even. “Have you heard from Howard since he left for London?”

Tony needed all of his willpower not to groan. The last man he wanted to talk about, or even think about, was his father. “Uhm,” He started, “Yeah, he’s sent the occasional e-mail.”

“Oh,” Steve instantly looked down, at his hands, obviously having hoped for a different answer, “It’s just that … I haven’t heard anything from him, not a phone call, not a text, not even a simple e-mail.”

Tony cursed Howard for making Steve feel like this. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, the only thing he’s sent me are updates on the congress,” Tony said. His father was an asshole, even more so than _he_ was, so why was he even defending him? One look at Steve gave him that answer, though. He couldn’t stand to see him so down, so lost and alone.

“I know what he’s like,” Steve said, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looked so young again. He really shouldn’t be with Howard. He deserved so much better. He deserved to be with someone who sends him messages when they couldn’t be together for a week. “I know that he can get caught up with his work, but ...” He looked into Tony’s eyes, his gaze intense and shimmering in the afterglow of the TV.

Tony didn’t have a clue about what he should say. He wanted to tell him that he should forget about Howard that man wasn’t worth his attention. He wanted to pull him close and wrap his arms around him and tell him not to feel neglected, because he wanted to give him all the attention he needed, but he did none of that and he kept his mouth shut.

“It’s getting late,” Steve said softly after a long silence. He stood up and pulled on his boots. “Thanks for the pizza and the movie, Tony. I had a great evening.”

Tony forced himself to stay seated on the couch. If he were to stand, he couldn’t be held accountable for his actions. If he were to stand, he’d just try and stop Steve from leaving. “No problem,” He said, offering Steve a small and polite smile, “Stop by anytime.”

When he heard the elevator doors slide open, Steve stepping inside the small cubicle, Tony closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, knowing Steve couldn’t see him. The elevator took him down a moment later, and Tony released a breath he hadn’t known to be holding. He already regretted not saying something.

He opened his eyes again a few seconds later, his gaze falling on the Han Solo action figure. He thought of the way Steve had held it. He thought of his long, thin fingers wrapping around the toy. He thought of how cold his hand had felt again when he had briefly touched him.

He needed another drink, without ice this time. Screw staying sober.

Moving to the bar, he grabbed the first bottle in sight, and – the light of the elevator jumped on again. It was green.

Tony frowned. “Jarvis?” He asked.

The doors opened again a few seconds later, Steve standing there, leaning back against the far wall of the small cubicle as Jarvis announced his arrival. When he looked up, there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in those blue eyes. No, this time, Steve walked out, confidently, and he headed straight towards Tony.

Tony didn’t have time to let confusion settle in. He didn’t have time to wonder what the hell was going on, not with Steve walking toward him like that, those bright blue eyes of him bold and fearless. Something clicked in Tony’s head.

Steve’s hands grabbed Tony’s shirt, and without thinking – because thinking was really fucking hard right now – Tony reaching up and cupped Steve’s face, thumb running over the sharp line of his cheek. They were inches apart, their chests heaving, both gazing into each other’s eyes. Tony felt Steve’s breath hot against his mouth.

Their lips crashed together, the kiss desperate and passionate and hungry. Tony opened his mouth, moaning at the feeling of Steve’s tongue licking into his mouth and running along his gums. Tony’s hands slid down Steve’s neck, trembling with the thrill of excitement. He was kissing Steve! His hands slipped further down, resting on Steve’s chest, feeling the wild beating of his heart.

Steve turned them around and pushed Tony onto the couch. Tony let himself fall back and spread his thighs, inviting Steve to positioning himself between them, which he did. Tony wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him close and kissing him again, lips dragging down the sharp line of his jaw before he claimed his mouth again. God, Steve’s body felt hard against his and Tony wanted to feel and explore every inch of it.

Tony rolled his hips, getting hard already, and he smiled when Steve groaned in response. Hands slipping underneath Steve’s black shirt, Tony canvassed every inch of his abdomen, feeling nothing but soft, warm skin and hard, taut muscles.

“Shit,” He breathed. He tossed his head back when Steve sucked faint bruises into the skin of his neck. “Oh, shit.” Was this really happening? Tony ran a hand down the back of Steve’s head, fingers treading through short, blond hair, demanding his attention, and when those blue eyes, so very dark suddenly, looked at him, Tony felt his breath catch in his throat. “Are you sure?” He asked.

Steve replied with a kiss, tongue tracing the seam of Tony’s lower lip before he bit down gently. Tony was losing his mind, but he was coherent enough to stay in control of the situation. With his hands flat against Steve’s chest, he pushed the man back, Steve instantly throwing him a concerned look, like he was afraid that he did something wrong.

“Not here,” Tony panted, lips dragging up Steve’s cheek. He stood, almost losing his balance, but Steve was there, standing with him and wrapping those massive arms of his around Tony’s waist. Tony grasped at Steve’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head. His chest was as broad and muscled as he’d expected it to be, and Tony leaned forward, teeth scraping down tanned skin, tongue flicking out. He felt Steve shudder beneath his touch and he wanted more of that, _needed_ more of that.

How they made their way to the bedroom without tripping over each other was a mystery to Tony, but they somehow managed to lie down on the smooth, silk sheets, Tony on his back, Steve hovering above him, massive hands on each side of his head, caging him in. His blue eyes were almost black now, pupils blown wide. Tony lifted his head, inviting for a kiss, and Steve eagerly responded, licking into Tony’s mouth.

Fingers trailed down Steve’s bare back until Tony felt the edge of his black jeans. Shit, he had to get rid of those. With hurried movements, he reached for Steve’s belt, unbuckling it, before he unzipped his jeans. Steve gasped when Tony forced his hand down his pants, feeling the hard outline of his cock through his underwear. Tony palmed him, pressing down on his erection, and Steve shuddered, his head dropping forward against the side of Tony’s neck.

Tony didn’t think about what he was doing and he certainly didn’t think about any possible consequences. No, he could only focus on Steve, pushing him onto his back, the sight of him on his silky purple sheets the most beautiful sight in the world. He kissed him again, Steve’s lips red and swollen and just begging to be kissed.

Steve’s hands were everywhere, frantically removing Tony’s shirt before tugging at his trousers.

“Easy, there,” Tony chuckled softly. He could hardly breathe. His tongue traced a line down Steve’s chest before he sucked one of his nipples into his mouth. Steve arched off of the bed, soft but dirty sounds leaving his pretty mouth. Those sounds should be illegal. A lot of things should be illegal about Steve.

He treaded his fingers through Steve’s hair and held on tightly. He felt Steve do the same, their hands clasped together. Tony continued to work his way down, kissing and licking at Steve’s skin until he felt the swollen red head of Steve’s cock bump against his chin. Tony’s mouth watered.

Tony pushed down Steve’s underwear, freeing Steve’s hardness which lay heavily against his lower stomach. Tony licked his lips as he dragged his nose along the length, breathing him in, groaning in anticipation. Underneath him, Steve squirmed; his thighs spread wider, inviting Tony to continue.

Tony sucked the tip of the hard length into his mouth and he moaned. The taste of Steve was sweet and salty at the same time. It drove him absolutely insane. Steve disentangled their hands in favor of carding his fingers through Tony’s hair, nails scraping down his scalp. Tony shuddered at the feeling. He slipped his hands down Steve’s sides before holding onto Steve’s surprisingly slim hips. He was bruising him, fingers digging harshly into his skin, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He merely gasped at the feeling of Tony sucking while pressing his tongue against the leaking slit of his cock, his entire body arching off of the bed.

“God, Tony,” Steve said breathlessly, writhing beneath Tony’s touch and warm mouth. He pushed Tony head down, wanting more of his warm and wet mouth, and Tony happily obliged, taking in as much as he could, swallowing around the head of his cock when it bump against the back of his throat.

He didn’t even care that his own raging hardness was neglected, still trapped in the strict confinements of his trousers. Fuck, he did not care!

With his head bobbing up and down, cheeks hollowing each time he sucked, he could feel Steve lose all semblance of control. His hips bucked upward, fucking into Tony’s eager mouth, and his hands were now grasping at the sheets beneath him. He was close, Tony could tell by the way Steve’s cock twitched inside his mouth.

Tony finally couldn’t take it anymore. He moved to his knees, making sure his lips stayed firmly around Steve’s length, tongue swirling along the underside, tracing a pulsating vein. He unzipped his own trousers and pushed them down along with his underwear, freeing his own erection. He took himself in hand, moaning at the pressure he applied.

“I’m gonna–” Steve said. He pressed his hips down, away from Tony’s mouth, but like hell was Tony going to let that happen. He swallowed him down again, groaning loudly, obscenely, sending vibration after vibration down Steve’s cock.

Steve came, hard, hips thrusting frantically, head thrown back against a pillow.

Tony swallowed everything the man had to give, refusing to disappoint. He pumped his own cock, brutally almost, chasing after his own release, but he didn’t get a chance to finish. When Steve’s cock turned flaccid in his mouth, lying heavily on his tongue, Steve pulled him up and pushed him down onto his back. Steve was demanding control over the situation again and Tony had absolutely no problem with that.

Their mouths instantly found each other again, kissing hungrily. Tony’s hands squeezed Steve’s shoulders, needing Steve to ground himself in the moment. He still had trouble believing that this was actually happening.

Steve ran a hand down Tony’s stomach while Tony kept his mouth firmly on Steve’s lips, his jaw, and his neck, kissing him wherever he could. He couldn’t stop kissing him, couldn’t stop marking him and tasting him. Steve’s fingers curled around his length, and Tony pressed his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, inhaling sharply, the leathery smell of Steve dazzling him. No man should smell that good.

Steve stroked him, slowly and gently at first, but quickly using more aggressive movements, sensing Tony’s need to come.

It only took a minute. Tony came with a strangled cry, which may or may not have been Steve’s name, and sank his teeth into a soft and sweet patch of flesh just above Steve’s collarbone. Afterward, he didn’t have any energy to move. He stared at the ceiling, catching his breath and hopelessly trying to figure out what had just happened, until Steve lay down, one leg hooked over Tony’s hips, face resting against his shoulder. Tony was too afraid to move then, afraid that Steve would move away and afraid that he would wake to find that everything had been a dream

He didn’t know how long they lay there, but eventually, Tony’s breathing slowed down, as did the beating of his heart, and Tony had finally re-found control over his mind and body. He tucked himself away with one hand and zipped up his trousers again, but not once did he remove the arm that he’d somehow managed to curl around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve didn’t move either. His chest rose and fell ever so faintly. A hand had come to rest on top of Tony’s chest.

“Steve?” Tony asked softly.

“Don’t say anything,” Steve answered, voice fragile, “Let’s just …”

Tony never found out what Steve wanted to say. There was only silence in the bedroom, and Tony felt his eyelids grow heavy. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He wanted to watch Steve who still lay beside him, blue eyes closed, lips set in a surprisingly sharp line. He wanted to reach out and smooth away all the hard edges to his face, smooth away all the doubt that lined his features. But he didn’t.

When he woke several hours later, early in the morning, the sun not even up yet, it was because he felt a cold chill run down his back. Blinking open his eyes, he needed a moment to remember what had happened, only for the memories to rush back, almost hurting him. He turned to look aside, finding Steve sitting on the edge of the bed, bent forward. His heart made a painful jump.

Haltingly, muscles aching, Tony sat up. There was no denying that Steve tensed at the movement behind him, and his entire body grew so very still suddenly. Tony didn’t understand at first, sleep still fogging his mind, but the pieces of the puzzle soon fell into place. Steve was wearing his clothes and he was tying up his shoes.

“Are you leaving?” Tony asked with a hint of hurt in his voice.

Steve didn’t say anything. He finished tying up his shoes and stood. Then finally he turned to look at Tony who couldn’t bring himself to move anymore. He just sat up on the bed, a frown creasing his brow. He took in the look on Steve’s face, all sorrow and awkwardness.

“Howard comes back from London today,” He said after a long silence that threatened to suffocate Tony. He rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand, eyes down to the floor. “I should be home when he gets here.”

Tony opened his mouth several times to speak, but he never managed to form any actual words. He swallowed heavily and ran a shaking hand through his hair, only to grab a fistful of it, tugging at it, hurting himself, wondering if this was real or not.

“You’re just gonna leave?” He asked, his speech slow and hesitant.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve said tonelessly, which fucking hurt.

“That’s it?” His voice was high, shrieking almost. He spent weeks crushing on the guy, spent weeks hating himself for doing so, spent weeks staying away from him, and now they had spent the night together and he had to pretend like nothing happened? How did one do that? How could one be that heartless? “You’re just going to go back to Howard now? Done and done?” He asked.

Steve didn’t say anything. He threw Tony an apologetic look, blue eyes shimmering with something akin to heartache, but fuck that! Tony jumped up from the bed, distancing himself as much as possible from the one man he thought wouldn’t hurt him as much as he was doing right now. Steve was kind and passionate and sweet, and he didn’t fucking sleep with someone and then try to sneak off. That was something _he_ did, because he was the asshole here, not Steve. Only apparently, Steve was.

“Bullshit,” Tony hissed. He couldn’t get any air in his lungs anymore. “You can’t pretend that there is nothing here!” He didn’t know when he started screaming, Steve flinching at the way he burst so suddenly. “You were the one that came back!”

Steve said nothing at all.

“Get out,” Tony snapped, eyes dark with fury.

And Steve did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Enjoy!

Hours had gone by, but the pain in Tony’s chest had yet to diminish. He decided he wasn’t heartbroken, though. No, he wasn’t a guy who got heartache. He didn’t have a big enough heart for that. Instead, he decided he was full of rage, violent energy thrumming through his veins. He couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t even calm down enough to work on a few blueprints which usually distracted him enough to take his mind off of the crap that was going on in his life.

He paced the floor of his living room, occasionally looking aside to gaze at the New York skyline. Steve was out there somehow, he couldn’t help but think, with Howard. The thought was enough to keep his rage alive. It was enough to intensify that pain in his chest, too. Tony walked to the lowered area of the penthouse and dropped down onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He had never been dumped before. He’d never felt this used before, because that was what Steve had done; he had used Tony to forget about Howard. And now he had gone running back to him.

Tony didn’t know what to do with himself. He should call his father and tell him what happened. He wondered what Howard would do, but Tony knew that somehow his father would be more pissed off with him than he would be with Steve. The truth remained that Howard loved that man, and it was public knowledge that the Stark family couldn’t stand each other. No, Howard would probably forgive Steve in a heartbeat and disinherit Tony. It made Tony laugh – why, he didn’t know. It was fucking sad.

Oh, who was he even kidding? Sure, he was pissed off and, sure, he wanted to lash out and _ruin_ something or someone, but there was no denying the pain in his chest. It was heartache, pure and simple. Steve had broken his heart, which might be karma coming around for him. God knew he’d played with plenty of hearts in his lifetime.

Sitting back, Tony picked up the phone and blindly dialed Pepper’s number. He knew she was probably working right now, like every other person in New York City. He should be working, too, but being the son of Howard Stark still came with a few privileges, like skipping work when he felt like it. It was a poor advantage compared to the crap family he’d grown up in.

“Hi, Tony,” Pepper greeting him when she finally picked up the phone, “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re not here, working, like everyone else.”

Tony didn’t instantly answer. He gazed out of the window from where he sat on the couch, his eyes landing on the Stark Building where he should be. “Yeah,” He said after a short silence, knowing he had to say something since he was the one who called her, “I didn’t feel like working today.”

“Well, you’re not here and Howard has taken the day off,” Pepper said, “Which means the rest of us barely know what to do first. It’s crazy around here.”

Tony didn’t care, which was another confirmation of what a gigantic asshole he was. Really, he started to understand why Steve would run back to Howard after their night together. God, he needed a drink, and it was only ten in the morning, but whatever. Tony stood and walked to the bar where the bottle of whiskey from last night still stood, the bottle he never actually managed to open because Steve had suddenly returned. Tony didn’t bother with a glass. He unscrewed the bottle and brought it to his lips.

“Tony?” Pepper asked, worry lacing her voice.

He hadn’t said anything in almost a minute. Of course Pepper would know something was wrong. “We slept together,” He heard himself say. His own voice sounded alien in his ears – hollow and drained of emotion.

“No,” Pepper said, groaning. Tony had a fair idea of what look she had on her face now; a look filled with disappointment and annoyance. Leave it to him to mess up everything, after all. “Oh, Tony,” She sighed.

“Could you scream at me or something?” Tony asked. He took another generous gulp from the bottle of whiskey, the liquid burning his throat and stomach. He willed the alcohol to numb his senses, to numb his thoughts, but there was nothing so far. He took another gulp. “Could you tell me that I’m the biggest idiot in the world and curse me for it?”

“I have a feeling you’re already doing that all on your own,” Pepper said.

Tony’s grip on the bottle tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “It fucking hurts,” He gritted out a moment later. He had trouble breathing and he didn’t know why. His chest was heaving, his muscles aching with how tense they were. He wanted to scream and rant.

He wanted to throw the bottle against the wall, but instead he brought it to his lips again.

“Tony,” Pepper said, her voice so soft Tony had trouble hearing her, “Are you drinking?”

He stared at the whiskey. Pepper had always gone on and on about all the alcohol he consumed. He’d always told her she was making a mountain out of a molehill, but maybe she had been right all along. And yet … He couldn’t make himself put the bottle down.

“I didn’t know you cared so much,” She said.

“That makes two of us,” Tony laughed. There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m going to make him pay for this,” He snapped suddenly, rage flooding his body again. Maybe it had something to do with the alcohol taking effect. He drank some more. “I’m going to make him pay for messing with me, Pepper, and he’s going to regret everything!”

There came no reply. It infuriated Tony more than anything, up to the point when he flung the bottle aside, watching it shatter against the wall, the amber liquid running down. Shards flew everywhere. Tony collapsed on the couch, lying back, eyes on the ceiling – the ceiling which was strangely blurred and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He blinked a few times, his cheeks turning wet.

“I want to ask him to leave Howard,” Tony confessed quietly.

He ended the call.

-x-x-x-

He didn’t know how long he sat in the car for, staring at the mansion stretching out before him. It had never been his home, he realized. No, his home, the house he grew up in, had been sold after his mother’s death. This house was where Howard had started a whole new life afterwards, a life that would have been better if he hadn’t been in it. This house was where Howard was trying to build something new. And Tony wasn’t sure yet whether or not he was going to destroy everything. He wanted to.

After exiting the car, Tony walked towards the front door. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to turn around and go back to his penthouse. He was acting on impulse and he wasn’t thinking straight. He’d gotten hurt this morning, experienced a sort of pain he hadn’t felt before, and he was going to do things that he would regret later on, he _knew_ that, but his feet kept moving forward, kept bringing him closer and closer to the front door. And the closer he got to the house, the angrier he got, because behind that door, his father was living a happy life with a man he didn’t deserve.

Blindly, he ticked in the security code and stepped inside. He shuddered at the warmth instantly engulfing him. He paused for a second, listening to the sounds inside the house. Footsteps sounded close by and they got louder. They were heavy. Tony turned to his left, watching his father exit the living room and walk into the foyer. As was usual, he had been warned about a visitor, but clearly he hadn’t expected Tony. He frowned when he saw his son.

“Tony?” He asked.

Tony wanted to shout the words. He wanted to scream them so loudly that Howard could never unhear them. But he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t as big of an asshole as he thought he was. He only knew that the truth would hurt Howard and, right now, Tony didn’t want to deal with his father’s pain. He had enough pain of his own to deal with.

“How was London?” He asked instead. His voice wavered.

Howard noticed. When didn’t he notice something about his son? He could call out his smallest weaknesses and use them to his advantage.

“Why don’t we talk in the living room?” He asked. He didn’t wait for Tony’s answer. He turned around and walked back into the room from where he came.

Tony hesitated. Being alone with Howard could have disastrous consequences right now. But if he didn’t follow him … Tony felt he had no other choice but to trail after him. He already knew it was a wrong decision, but on the other hand; Steve was who he was really here for, but perhaps he could use a few more minutes to gather his courage to actually see and speak to him. Closing the door behind him, Tony watched Howard pour two glasses of whiskey, the good stuff, so Tony accepted it gladly.

“London was interesting,” Howard said, the answer delayed. He took a seat on the brown, leather couch. “You should know; I sent you a ton of e-mails.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, nodding. He contemplated on taking a seat as well, but that would limit his choice of actions. He wanted to keep moving, needed to keep moving. There was energy inside of him, fueled by pain and frustration and anger, and if he were to take a seat, who knew what he would spout then? “Yeah, I got those. It’s funny how you didn’t send anything to Steve, though.”

He just couldn’t keep his big mouth shut.

“You know how I get when I’m working,” Howard said. He sounded calm. His eyes trailed after Tony, watching his every move, but there was nothing sharp about his gaze. No, Howard just sat there, one ankle resting on his knee, an arm draped casually over the edge of the couch. For once, he didn’t radiate smugness of hostility. For once, he just looked like a father.

Tony hardly knew what was going on, let alone what to expect. “I do know how you get,” He said, looking down at the glass in his hand, wishing he could drown in it, “I’m actually here to see Steve. I gotta talk to him.” He glanced up then, scrutinizing the look on his father’s face, searching for a hint of dismay. “And I don’t care that you don’t want me anywhere near him, because I’m–”

“Stop,” Howard interjected. He lifted the hand that didn’t hold his glass and he shook his head ever so slightly. If Tony wasn’t mistaken – and he had to be – he could recognize regret in his father’s brown eyes. “Stop,” He said again, “About what I said to you … I am sorry. When I saw those pictures of Steve dancing and drinking, I overreacted.”

Tony stared at his father’s with wide eyes. “That’s what you call it? An overreaction?”

Howard uncrossed his legs and leaned forward a little. He sighed heavily, his shoulders hanging down, like there was a heavy weight dragging him down, but fuck that. Howard didn’t deserve to feel like this, to feel sorry and to be remorseful. No, fuck him!

“To you, I’ve always been and I’ll always be a crap son, no matter how many engines I build for you, no matter how many weapons I invent for you,” Tony gritted out. He emptied his glass in one go, shuddering at the feeling of the liquid burning its way down to his stomach. It was exactly what he needed. “So let’s stop pretending, shall we?”

Howard raised his eyes, looking up at his son. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“We share DNA,” Tony told him, pointing an accusing finger in his direction, “That’s it. I don’t want to bother with the Sunday evening dinners anymore. I don’t want to be reminded over and over and over of the fact that I’m not the kind of son you wanted me to be, and–”

“–Tony–”

“–that’s your tough luck, because I’m not going to change for your sake or–”

“–Tony–”

“–or the sake of the company!”

There was a short pause, the silence in the room only interrupted by Tony’s labored breathing. He didn’t know when he’d gotten so angry at his father. He didn’t know _why_ either. It was just the effect the man had on him.

“I hear you,” Howard said eventually. His voice was still as calm as it had been a minute ago. Tony felt his mind go into all sorts of directions, because what the fuck? Why wasn’t Howard screaming at him already? Why wasn’t he cursing him and calling him all sorts of names? Why wasn’t he telling him to get out? “And you’re right,” He continued gently, “I was never any good at being your father, and I’m genuinely sorry about that. You deserved better. You still do.”

Tony didn’t recognize the man in front of him anymore.

“Are you dying?”

Howard, elbows resting on his knees, lowered his head and huffed out a laugh. There was nothing amusing to it, though. “No, I’m not,” He said after a moment. He stood and moved to the table where the whiskey was at, pouring himself another glass. “Lately I’ve just wanted to be a better man than I have been all my life,” He explained, “And I thought; why not start with you?”

This was because of Steve. Howard wanted to change, wanted to be a better man because of Steve. It didn’t even come as a shock to Tony. After all, Steve had that unearthly talent to not just see the best in everyone; he also made that person want to be nothing _but_ that best.

“I have to talk to Steve,” Tony said, unable to reply to Howard’s statement. It was all temporary anyway. Today Howard wanted to better his life and tomorrow they would be back to screaming at each other. It was inevitable. “Is he here?”

Howard nodded once. “Upstairs.”

Tony didn’t say another word. What would be the point? He spun around, set down his empty glass on the nearest table, and headed out of the living room. He could feel Howard’s eyes on him, but he didn’t look back. There was still that undeniable desire of telling him just what his boyfriend had been up to last night. But he didn’t say a word.

He went upstairs, taking two steps at the same time, and walked towards the master bedroom.

The door was ajar, and Tony could hear movement inside. He knocked twice, knuckles rapping against the wood, and pushed open the door without waiting for an answer. Steve was standing in between the bed and a built-in closet. A suitcase lay opened on the bed. He was filling it with clothes. For one brief moment, Tony’s heart fluttered with hope, but he wasn’t naïve. Steve wasn’t leaving Howard. If he were, Howard wouldn’t have been so kind to him.

Steve’s eyes turned to him, big and blue, and Tony had to swallow away all desperate words that threatened to leave him.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, nodding towards the suitcase. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed before his chest.

After a moment of standing there, seemingly clueless about what he was supposed to do, Steve snapped out of his stupor and continued putting a bunch of shirts and jeans into the suitcase, folding them neatly. “I’m going to Paris, actually,” He said in between throwing sneaky glances at Tony, “Howard planned a whole trip.”

Tony chuckled humorlessly. “He’s turning into a romantic now, too?”

Steve stopped. He stood on the other side of the bed, his arms hanging awkwardly beside his body – that big, strong body Tony had had the pleasure of tasting, and now it was forbidden again. Tony pushed down all frustrations the thought brought along. He was an adult and he wanted to talk like an adult. There was no need or reason to be petty or to start screaming accusations.

“Will you tell him?” Steve asked, a hint of hopelessness to his voice.

“I should,” Tony answered with a shrug.

Steve lowered his gaze and ran a hand through his hair. Tony wanted nothing more than to walk over to him and wrap his arms around him and kiss him. God, he wanted to kiss him. He wanted nothing more than to wind back time and relive their previous night. He would have done it differently, though. He wouldn’t have let Steve walk away afterwards.

“Don’t go,” He ended up saying, his voice soft.

Steve’s eyes closed. “Don’t do this, Tony,” He said with a heavy breath. When he looked back up, meeting Tony’s gaze, he was begging him. “What happened last night, it was a moment of weakness.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Tony replied, surprised by how calm he managed to stay. He pushed himself away from the doorframe and walked around the bed. When Steve took a step back, away from him, he ignored the sting to his chest and simply took another step forward. Steve didn’t distance himself this time. Tony reached out, the tips of his fingers trailing down Steve’s hand. It felt warmer now. “Don’t go,” He repeated, softly, barely audible.

He could tell Steve was confused and that he was contemplating his options. It was so obvious by the way he screwed his eyes shut, by the way his nose wrinkled. “The plane leaves in five hours,” He said after a short silence. He pulled his hand away from Tony’s – Tony who didn’t have the strength yet to lower his hand. No, it hovered in between them. “I still have some packing to do,” Steve told him, taking another step back, “Go home, Tony, please.”

That was it then. Tony refused to fall to his knees and beg Steve to leave Howard for him, no matter what he’d told Pepper earlier. He refused to stoop so low as to cry for the man. He wasn’t at fault here. He wasn’t the one tied down. Steve was, and he’d made his choice.

Tony nodded, swallowing heavily, and walked towards the door.

“Enjoy Paris,” He said before he walked away.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see whatever look Steve had on his face, because it would be enough to make him doubt. It would be enough for Tony to throw out all decency he had left and will Steve to stay. So he kept walking; down the hallway, down the stairs, across the foyer, all the way to his car.

-x-x-x-

When he finally stepped into the elevator that would take him up to his penthouse, Jarvis warned him that he already had a visitor; one Miss Pepper Potts. Tony leaned back against the far wall of the small cubicle and knocked his head against it a few times, just hard enough to knock some sense into him. God knew he needed it right now.

The doors slid open at the top floor, and Tony carefully stepped outside of the cubicle, unsure of what lay waiting for him. For all he knew, Pepper was pissed off at him for going to see Howard and Steve and wanted to rant and rant and rant. It wouldn’t be the first time and he wouldn’t even be able to blame her if she did. But Pepper wasn’t waiting for him by the elevator. Tony walked deeper into the penthouse to find her kneeling down by the wall near the couch, collecting shards of glass.

“Hey, no,” He instantly objected, hurrying over, “What are you doing?”

“It’s a mess,” Pepper replied, motioning to the spilled whiskey and shattered glass.

“I know.” Tony gently hoisted her up to her feet and carefully took the broken pieces of glass into his hands. The last thing he wanted was Pepper to cut herself because of his idiocy. “It’s _my_ mess, which means I should be the one cleaning it up. Not you.”

“I was so worried, Tony,” Pepper said, trailing after Tony as he headed into the kitchen, dumping the shards into a separate container. “I still am,” She continued, “Jarvis told me you were out. Don’t tell me you did anything stupid.”

Tony grabbed a wash-cloth from the sink and filled a bucket with water. “I’m not drunk, that should be a first sign,” He said with a hint of a smile. Pepper being here helped him feel better. But then he caught Pepper’s heated eyes, so he quickly wiped the smile right off of his face. “I didn’t do anything stupid,” He assured her.

He walked back towards the wall in the living room, Pepper still following him around, and kneeled down by the mess of alcohol. He started swiping it all up. “At least, I don’t think so,” He said with a sigh, “I spoke to Howard and the ass actually apologized for being an ass.”

“Uhu,” Pepper said, hanging to his every word. She took a seat on the couch, her eyes glued to Tony’s figure. “What else?”

“And I spoke to Steve,” Tony admitted, throwing a glance over his shoulder. He could tell Pepper was tense and just waiting for him to admit that he did in fact do something immensely stupid. “He and Howard are going to Paris,” He sighed as he focused on cleaning up the floor again.

Why, Tony didn’t know, but he saw Pepper smiling through the corner of his eyes. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there nonetheless. Any other person might have missed it, but not Tony. They had been friends for years after all, decades even.

“I’m proud of you, Tony,” She said.

At that, Tony scoffed. He kept his eyes on the floor, careful of any shards of glass that he might have missed. “You have no idea how much I wanted to tell Howard about what happened,” He said, shaking his head. He still didn’t know why he kept his mouth shut. “I wanted to tell him every detail and just rub it in his face, hoping to break them apart.”

“But you didn’t,” Pepper said.

“This is all on me, anyway.” How he hadn’t noticed that before, he didn’t know. It was as clear as day. “I always fall for the wrong people.”

“Always?” Pepper asked.

He threw her a meaningful look, and Pepper instantly realized. Her cheeks turned a darker shade of red, and Tony smiled at her, reassuring her. The last thing he wanted was for things to become awkward between them. No, he needed Pepper right now.

“It was a long time ago,” He told her. He gazed at the wasted alcohol for a moment, sighing. It was such a shame. From now on, he vowed never to waste good whiskey like that again. “Hell, maybe Howard was right,” He continued, his thoughts leading him everywhere, “Maybe I should throw my money at supermodels instead.”

“Don’t you dare,” Pepper warned.

Straightening his back, Tony threw the wash-cloth into the bucket. He’d take care of the rest later. Or the cleaning woman would. He’d taken care of the worst of it anyway. No, what he deserved right now was a drink. Tony turned to the bar.

“You shouldn’t have come over,” He told Pepper as he crossed the living room, “I know how much work you have to do.”

Pepper waved away those words. “You needed a friend,” She smiled.

The bar was … empty. There was no other way to describe it. The glasses were there, all neatly stacked, but there wasn’t a bottle of alcohol in sight.

“Why is there nothing here?” He asked, alarmed. He looked over to where Pepper sat.

She was still smiling. “Like I said,” She told him, “You needed a friend.”

-x-x-x-

With a bored sigh, Tony switched off the TV and threw the remote control onto the couch beside him. He sunk a little deeper into the cushions and threw a glance at the low coffee table nearby. Any other day, there would have been a glass of whiskey standing there. God, Tony would give a lot for a drink right now. He even considered going out to the store and get a bottle. Fuck, Pepper was right. He had to quit drinking. It was getting out of hand. So no going to the store. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

He glanced up at the clock. It was four in the afternoon. In about an hour, Steve would get on a private plane and go with Howard to the most romantic city in the world. His heart made a painful beat, but Tony bit through it. Now it hurt, sure, but given enough time, he’d get over it. He had to. So many people got their hearts broken. He could now say he was one of them. Hell, it humanized him. It was proof he had a heart to begin with.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and buried his head in his hands. He should keep busy. Not doing anything, just sitting there, it made him crave a drink all the more. So he stood and began walking to his work-room. There were plenty of blueprints that needed his attention after all.

Jarvis’ voice sounded through the penthouse suddenly.

“ _Sir, Mr. Rogers requests entrance to the penthouse._ ”

Tony stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t help but glance at the clock again. One hour. So what did that mean? Steve would quickly drop by to spill some more hurtful words and then leave again, head for Paris with Howard and experience the most romantic week of his life? Was he coming to rub that in some more?

He couldn’t believe it. Steve wasn’t an asshole.

“Let him up,” He said.

God, any other day, he’d make himself a drink now. He couldn’t now, though, which left him with the unknown question of what the hell he was supposed to do with his hands. He watched the elevator move up through all the floors of the building. He was running out of time. At the last moment, he decided to shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He felt awkward and strangely insecure, but that might have more to do with the fact that he would see Steve again in a second instead of the fact that he didn’t have a drink in hand.

The doors to the elevator slipped open. From where Tony stood, close to the hallway that lead to his bedroom, bathroom and work-room, he couldn’t see the insides of the elevator. For a moment, when nothing happened, he assumed Steve had changed his mind at the last moment, but then Jarvis would have told him.

No, Steve walked out a few long seconds later. He wore his standard black boots and jeans, along with a blue shirt and his black, leather vest. His light blue eyes scanned the room and eventually found Tony standing to the side. Steve didn’t say anything. He just turned towards Tony and then remained unmoving.

Tony realized that Steve was waiting. Swallowing heavily, Tony walked back into the living room, his steps slow and calculated. Shit, he wished he could pour himself a drink now. He could get some water, but then, that sounded kind of ridiculous.

“I told him,” Steve said suddenly.

Tony instantly came to a halt, his brown eyes widening.

“I told him what happened between us last night,” He continued. It sounded like every word leaving his lips hurt him, physically. “I expected him to scream or something, to be pissed off, but he just …” He threw his gaze down and ran a hand through his short, blond hair. “I don’t know. He said he should have seen it coming.”

Tony still couldn’t bring himself to move, to speak, to _think_. He could only look at Steve and take in the way he stood there inside his penthouse, like he was moving from one battlefield to the next. His gaze was burdened, his shoulders hanging forward, carrying a heavy weight.

“Say something,” Steve breathed, voice faltering, breaking.

Tony couldn’t bear it any longer. He approached Steve, Steve whose eyes turned apprehensive, like he was waiting for an inevitable blow. As soon as he stood close enough, Tony lifted his hand and watched as Steve closed his eyes. Slowly and carefully, he let the tips of his fingers trace the sharp line of Steve’s jaw. He felt Steve shudder beneath his touch.

Without thinking, because thinking was pretty useless right now anyway, Tony cupped Steve’s face and pulled him down a little, just enough so that he could press their lips together. Steve instantly wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist, and Tony melted into the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and pulled him as close as physically possible, parting his lips and allowing Steve’s tongue to explore his mouth. He moaned.

The kiss broke apart only a few seconds later, but their arms stayed where they were. Tony didn’t know how long they stood there for, both their eyes closed, just experiencing the moment and not wanting it to end. Tony’s hands carded through Steve’s hair, down and down, until they rested on the sides of his neck. Underneath the soft pad of his thumb, he could feel Steve’s racing heartbeat. With every second that passed, it slowed down.

Steve opened his eyes and smiled. It was the most beautiful sight Tony had seen all day.

“I’m really glad you didn’t get on that plane,” Tony told him.

Steve nodded. “Me, too.”


End file.
